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FEMALE   BIOGRAPHY; 


CONTAINING   NOTICES 


DISTINGUISHED     WOMEN, 


DIFFERENT  NATIONS  AND  AGES. 


BY  SAMUEL    L.   KNAPP, 

AUTHOR  OF  LECIORES  ON  AMERICAN  LITERATURE,  ADVICE  IN  THE  PURSUITS  OF  UTERATUKS, 

AMERICAN  BIOGRAPHY,   ETC.  ETC. 


'■  0  fairest  of  creation,  last  and  best 
Of  all  God's  works,  creature  in  whom  excell'd 
"Whatever  can  to  sight  or  thought  be  form'd, 
Holy,  divine,  good,  amiable  or  aweet."— Milton. 

"  Lords  of  the  world,  as  ye  are  proudly  called, 

By  your  own  sex  applaudftd  and  extolled 

For  every  good— is  woman's  lovely  frame 

A  gemless  casket— fitted  but  to  claim 

The  eye's  devotion?  Perish  such  a  thought, 

Here,  learn  her  worth,  and  prize  her  as  ye  ought ; 

Though  she  permits  your  rougher  hand  to  bear 

The  rod  of  power— your  loftier  brow  to  wear 

The  glittering  badge  of  sovereignty— she  still 

Directs,  unseen,  the  sceptre  at  her  will. 

"Wisdom  may  act,  determine,  or  approve. 

Still  the  prime  mover  is,  and  must  be,  L.ove."—Woodioorth, 


STEREOTYPED  BY  FRANCIS  F.  RIPLEY. 

THOMAS  WARDLE,  No.   141  CHESTNUT  ST. 


1843. 


Entkrkd,  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1833,  by  Samuel  L.  Knapp,  in  the 
Clerk's  offif-e  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


INTRODUCTION. 


We  have  carefully  examined  the  histories  and  biographies  of  women,  as 
they  are  found  in  the  literature  of  European  nations,  and  have  come  to  the 
conclusion,  that  many  wrong  opinions  are  generally  entertained,  m  regard  to 
the  treatment  and  influence  of  women,  both  in  times  past,  and  at  the  present. 
Alexander,  in  his  history  of  women,  has  stated  a  great  number  of  facts  to 
show  that  in  oriental  countries,  women  have  always  been  in  a  degraded  state- 
He  draws  too  many  unfavorable  inferences,  from  a  few  individual  cases,  in 
our  humble  opinion.  Cox,  in  his  Female  Scripture  Biography,  has  followed 
in  the  same  track ;  but  more  modern  researches  has  done  much  to  correct  the 
erroneous  impressions  we  formerly  imbibed.  It  is  unquestionably  true,  that 
where  men  are  in  thraldom,  women  share  the  evil ;  and  that  when  tyranny  is 
the  basis  of  a  government,  that  it  will  find  its  way  into  domestic  life :  but 
there  are  many  checks  to  ambitious  power  in  the  very  nature  of  the  minds  and 
dispositions  of  mankind.  Egypt,  the  cradle  of  nations,  and  of  the  arts  and 
sciences,  affords  us  no  instances  of  extraordinary  bondage  or  servitude  among 
their  females.  If  Pharoah's  daughter  had  not  possessed  a  good  share  of  free- 
dom of  thought  and  action,  the  infant  Moses  would  have  perished  in  the 
rushes.  If  Miriam,  the  sister  of  Moses,  had  been  secluded  from  society,  she 
would  not  have  had  an  opportunity  of  witnessing  the  rescue  of  her  brother. 
If  this  same  Miriam  had  not  been  well  educated,  would  she  have  been  a  pro- 
phetess in  Israel  1  Or,  if  the  women  had  been  entirely  secluded,  as  some  would 
have  us  believe  women  of  her  nation  were,  could  she  have  led  them' to  sing 
the  chorus  of  the  song  of  her  brother  Moses,  for  the  deliverance  of  the  Israel- 
ites from  the  hands  of  Pharoah ;  and  if  the  women  in  that  day  had  not  some- 
thing to  do  in  the  affairs  of  government,  would  she  have  joined  her  brother 
Aaron  in  speaking  against  Moses,  her  brother;  ^^and  they  said^  Hath  the 
Lord  indeed  spoken  only  by  Moses  ?  hath  he  not  spoken  by  us  ?"  The  Jewish 
history  abounds  in  instances  of  female  distinction.  Deborah,  who  lived  under 
the  palm  tree,  was  judge  of  Israel,  and  sung  with  Barack  a  song  of  deliver- 


IV  INTRODUCTION. 

ance  from  the  oppressor's  power.  And  after  the  race  of  kings  had  become 
extinct,  Judith  was  judge  in  Israel  for  many  years.  In  the  first  days  of  kingly 
power,  the  women  interfered  with  state  matters,  and  came  out  after  the  death 
of  Goliah,  and  praised  David  in  higher  strains  than  ihey  did  their  monarch, 
directly  to  his  face.  "  Saul  hath  slain  his  thousands,  and  David  his  ten  thou- 
sands," an  oriental  figure  to  enforce  their  opinions  of  the  youthful  warrior's 
superiority. 

The  Athenians  borrowed  their  laws  and  customs  from  the  East,  but  they 
were  softened  and  tamed  by  a  spirit  of  philosophy,  which  was  early  cultivated 
by  that  extraordinary  people.  They  undertook  to  regulate  their  domestic 
affairs  by  the  influence  of  public  opinion,  rather  than  by  laws ;  their  women 
were  allowed  to  go  abroad,  while  they  were  advised  to  stay  at  home. 
At  Sparta,  the  bold  doctrine  of  abolishing  all  seclusion  was  avowed,  and 
their  physical  and  mental  instruction  was  similar  to  that  of  the  males.  The 
latter  system  was  a  bad  one,  for  it  took  away  that  refinement  which  makes 
up  no  inconsiderable  portion  of  female  influence. 

The  Roman  women  had,  from  the  earliest  days  of  their  history,  a  command- 
ing influence  in  the  affairs  of  state,  as  well  as  in  domestic  concerns;  not 
arising,  as  some  have  supposed,  from  immunities  granted  them  for  the  injury 
done  their  Sabine  mothers,  but  altogether  from  their  being  well  educated. 
The  infant  schools  among  the  Romans  were  the  best  ever  known.  The 
vernae,  or  nursery  maids,  a  higher  class  of  slaves,  were  well  educated,  par- 
ticularly in  the  correct  pronunciation  of  the  Latin  language,  and  were  treated 
by  every  family  as  favorites.  The  laws  protected  them  from  personal  insult. 
It  was  a  proof  of  low  origin  to  make  mistakes  in  the  pronunciation  of  words, 
for  it  indicated  that  one  had  not  been  instructed  by  a  verna.  The  Romans  had 
many  excellent  customs  and  laws,  protecting  the  rights  of  women,  probably 
as  good  as  any  ever  framed.  The  .Tustinian  code  contains  many  plain  and 
just  laws,  in  regard  to  the  persons  and  property  of  women  in  the  marriage 
state ;  perhaps  no  code  has  ever  been  equal  to  it,  if  we  except  the  code  of 
Napoleon,  which  was  based  upon  it. 

The  next  code  which  protected  the  rights  of  women,  is  to  be  found  in  the 
Koran.  This  code  had  a  religious  as  well  as  a  legal  authority.  The  angel 
Gabriel  announced,  in  a  vision,  what  the  favorite  wives  of  Mahomet  wished 
to  carry  into  effect,  and  to  their  honor,  they  made  no  unreasonable  requests. 

The  glorious  days  of  Arabian  literature  were  favorable  to  the  extension 
and  security  of  the  rights  of  women.  The  reigns  of  Haroun  Al  Raschid  and 
Al  Mamoun,  were  famous  for  the  display  of  female  genius.  Princesses,  and 
women  of  talents  partook  of  the  enthusiasm,  which  was  carried  to  the  high- 
est degree,  in  favor  of  learning.    They  made  orations  and  poems,  which 


INTRODUCTION.  V 

were  delivered  in  public  and  received  the  applauses  of  all  the  students  of  the 
House  of  Wisdom.  The  whole  of  the  literature  of  the  East  is  adorned  by  the 
finest  eulogiums  in  praise  of  women.  The  Arabian  Nights,  as  well  as  the 
immense  number  of  tales  and  apologues,  found  in  oriental  Hterature,  are 
full  of  descriptions  of  the  beauty,  the  influence,  the  wit,  and  the  acquirements 
of  women.  It  may  be  said  that  these  are  creatures  of  the  imagination  ;  grant 
it  in  part,  still  no  image  will  please  the  world  that  has  not  some  prototji^e  in 
nature.  If  these  lovely  pictures  went  beyond  nature,  they  had  a  strong 
resemblance  to  that  which  was  known.  The  thousand  and  one  tales  would 
not  have  been  ascribed  to  a  woman,  unless  females  had  been  distinguished 
in  this  enchanting  branch  of  literature.  If  women  had  not  been  admired 
among  the  Greeks,  would  all  those  lovely  creations  of  female  divinities  have 
existed  1  The  God  of  wisdom  could  not  move  in  single  sovereignty,  but  must 
be  assisted  by  nine  females,  through  whom  his  inspirations  were  to  pass. 
Every  grove,  every  stream,  was  full  of  these  creations,  and  nothing  was  done 
but  by  female  influence.  Modern  travellers  mform  us,  that  the  women  of 
Persia  and  Turkey  are  well  educated  at  the  present  day,  not  only  in  tasteful 
learning,  but  in  the  science  of  domestic  economy;  andthat  even  the  harem 
is  a  place  of  industry  and  study  ;  and  more  than  one  writer  of  our  time  con- 
tends for  their  equality  with  European  women.  Some,  who  had  ample 
opportunity  to  witness  the  fact,  have  stated  that  the  remaining  fragments  of 
Arabian  literature  are  now  to  be  found  among  women  in  their  lullabys,  and 
amusements  for  their  children,  the  great  fame  of  the  nation  having  departed ; 
as  the  Scandinavian  literature,  once  the  mother  of  European  knowledge,  is 
now  to  be  found  in  the  books  of  the  nursery.  "Jack  the  Giant  Killer,"  "  Little 
Red  Riding  Hood,"  "Old  Nick,  and  "  Seven  League  Boots,"  were  once  the 
general  tales  of  the  north  of  Europe,  their  names  only  being  changed  in  some 
degree,  in  the  several  stages  of  their  degradation. 

Nor  is  the  influence  of  women  so  small  in  rude  and  barbarous  nations  as 
we  imagine.  The  Winnebagoes,  who  visited  the  seat  of  government  a  few 
years  since,  had  one  female  among  them.  She  could  not  gain  the  consent  of 
the  nation  that  she  might  attend  them,  but  as  soon  as  they  were  gone,  her 
husband  being  one  of  the  embassadors,  she  followed  them  closely,  but  did 
not  join  them  until  they  had  travelled  several  hundred  miles.  At  this  distance 
she  presumed  that  they  would  not  drive  her  home ;  she  reasoned  correctly. 
They,  admiring  the  strength  of  her  affection  and  her  fortitude,  for  she  came 
near  starving  on  the  way  through  the  vnlderness,  permitted  her  to  move  on 
with  them.  The  men  were  sometimes  angry,  to  see  her  loaded  with  presents 
from  the  ladies  of  Washington,  and  other  cities  through  which  they  passed  ; 
but  they  dared  not  treat  her  rudely.    To  prove  that  women  have  important 

i* 


VI  IKTRODUCTION. 

offices  even  among  savages,  we  have  only  to  look  at  them  when  the  men  are 
sick  or  inebriated ;  when  one  of  them  was  taken  dangerously  Ul,  she  was 
mistress  of  the  ceremonies,  when  a  charm  was  tried  for  his  cure.  It  consisted 
in  mumbling  an  incantation  over  a  heap  of  trumpery,  as  multiform  and  sin- 
gular, as  ever  was  thrown  into  the  cauldron  of  the  weird  sisters.  To  show 
her  cunning  and  her  power,  she  forbid  every  one  from  taking  any  spirituous 
liquor  while  the  charm  was  operating.  When  any  of  the  men  was  under 
the  influence  of  ardent  spirits,  she  approached  him,  threw  a  blanket  over  his 
face,  and  in  an  instant  he  was  quiet  and  suffered  himself  to  be  tied,  and  cast 
upon  the  floor ;  and  he  harbored  no  resentment  the  next  day  towards  her  for 
the  deed.  If  they  had  any  dispute  among  themselves  in  matters  of  memory, 
she  was  appealed  to  as  their  historian.  This  certainly  is  female  influence,  if 
the  form  of  it  is  not  exactly  to  our  taste. 

If  women  had  been  so  degraded  as  some  writers  would  have  us  believe, 
would  the  great  dramatists,  those  mighty  masters  in  the  knowledge  of  human 
nature,  have  given  us  such  pictures  of  females  as  they  have  1  The  ancient 
drama  is  full  of  high  and  heroic  female  conduct.  In  more  modern  times, 
Shakspeare  has  drawn  many  admirable  female  characters,  such  as  Isabella, 
Imogine,  Portia,  Queen  Catharine,  and  others.  We  admire  these,  because 
we  have  seen  such  in  life,  or  those  who  would  have  acted  as  they  did,  placed 
in  the  same  situations.  Many  other  dramatists  might  be  mentioned,  who  have 
given  us  fine,  and  natural  female  portraits.  The  novelists  who  do  not  draw 
their  characters  from  nature,  have  no  readers  who  peruse  their  works  a  second 
time.  If  these  characters  are  to  be  found  in  society,  they  could  not  have  been 
formed  without  education,  or  have  lived  without  influence. 

The  christian  religion  is  said  to  be  one  for  women,  but  it  is  not  more  benefi- 
cial to  women  than  to  men.  It  is  a  religion  of  the  affections,  and  its  great  com- 
mandment is  to  love  one  another ;  and  this,  when  practised  on,  makes  all 
happy.  The  church,  throughout  all  Christendom,  in  consideration  of  the 
sanction  our  Saviour  gave  to  marriage,  made  it  a  sacrament  of  their  religion, 
and  made  it  indissoluble  while  the  parties  were  living ;  unless  by  the  authority 
of  the  representative  of  St.  Peter,  who  had  the  power  to  bind  and  to  loose  on 
earth,  with  promise  of  its  being  sanctioned  in  heaven.  In  protestant  countries, 
marriage  is  now  considered  a  civil  contract  between  individuals,  but  not  to  be 
broken  at  their  will;  the  community  being  a  party  to  it,  for  the  welfare  of  the 
state.  In  either  case  women  gained  something  from  the  change  which  this  reli- 
gion produced.  But  after  all,  the  diffusion  of  knowledge  in  the  world,  and  the 
practise  of  those  courtesies  that  grew  out  of  intelligence  and  refinement,  have 
more  effect  on  the  character  of  women  than  any  laws  ever  did,  or  will  have. 
The  English  laws,  from  which  our  own  are  derived,  have  been  thought  excel- 


INTRODUCTION.  VU 

lent,  but,  in  our  opinion,  they  stand  in  need  of  many  alterations.  They  would  be 
thought  oppressive  in  many  instances,  if  they  were  always  carried  into  effect. 
In  this  country,  many  of  the  hard  features  of  the  common  law  are  amelio- 
rated by  statutory  provisions,  and  others  will  be,  as  soon  as  the  people  become 
more  enlightened. 

Within  a  few  years,  much  attention  has  been  paid  to  female  education  in 
this  country.  Take  the  whole  number  of  females,  from  ten  years  of  age  up 
to  twenty,  in  our  country,  particularly  in  cities  and  villages,  and  we  find  them 
better  educated  than  the  males  of  the  same  age ;  but  as  yet  there  has  not 
been  a  good  and  sufficient  system  in  their  pursuits  of  knowledge,  after  their 
domestic  duties  commence,  to  keep  the  superiority  through  life  ;  as  they  have 
not  the  same  opportunities  for  gaining  that  kind  of  chance  information,  ari- 
sing from  the  intercourse  with  ail  sorts  of  men  in  the  bustle  of  life,  as  males 
have.  A  good  treatise  for  young  married  people,  on  the  proper  course  of  keep- 
ing and  increasing  information,  would  do  much  service  to  society.  A  love  of 
reading  does  something  towards  this,  but  without  a  system,  this  reading  is 
too  cursory,  and  has  in  general  no  classification.  But  with  these  defects  in 
their  education,  we  have  produced  several  distinguished  female  scholars  and 
writers ;  if  not  as  great  a  number  as  England,  according  to  our  census, 
it  must  be  remembered,  that  our  population,  with  the  exception  of  our  cities, 
is  as  yet  sparse,  and  in  former  times,  the  best  books,  were  difficult  to  be 
obtained.  These  evils  are  passing  away,  and  in  a  few  years  books  of  all 
kinds  will  be  of  easy  access. 

Some  may  say  that  women  are  becoming  too  learned ;  that  they  do  not 
like  a  learned  woman ;  forgetting  that  the  more  learned  any  one  becomes, 
the  less  is  the  affectation  of  knowledge,  and  the  appearance  of  superiority. 
When  the  air  is  pure,  and  the  sun  is  bright,  the  more  acute  is  our  vision,  and 
the  better  our  feelings;  but  when  the  air  is  misty  and  light,  the  more  relaxed 
our  nerves,  and  the  more  liable  are  we  to  be  deceived  by  optical  illusions.  So 
in  the  mental  world  it  often  happens,  that  he  who  sees  but  little,  sees  wrong. 
The  information  now  acquired  is  brought  down  to  the  business  of  life,  and  so 
many  may  obtain  a  good  share  of  knowledge,  that  the  superficial  have  but 
little  chance  to  deceive  us.  Women  are  often  situated,  so  as  to  be  Aee  from 
absorbing  duties,  and  when  any  mind  is  idle,  and  there  are  no  attempts  for  its 
improvement,  fashion  and  whim  will  occupy  all  the  vacant  ground.  It  is 
education  then,  began  early  and  continued  long,  that  will  ever  give  women 
their  true  rank  and  influence  in  every  grade  of  society.  I  contend  for  an 
equality  among  the  sexes,  but  it  would  be  worse  than  idle  to  urge  a  similarity 
of  pursuits,  as  some  have  done.  The  doctrine  that  each  should  fill  their  proper 
sphere,  such  as  nature  and  reason  teach  us,  is  finely  enforced  in  a  paragraph 


>'1U  IKTRODUCTlOlSr. 

from  the  pen  of  Mrs.  Sigourney,  who  stands  confessedly  at  the  head  of  femaJ 
writers  in  our  country ;  and  whose  taste  is  only  surpassed  by  her  judgment, 
and  whose  piety  consecrates  what  her  muse  inspires. 

"Man  might  be  initiated  into  the  varieties  and  mysteries  of  needle-work; 
taught  to  have  patience  with  the  feebleness  and  waywardness  of  infancy,  and 
to  steal  with  noiseless  steps  around  the  chamber  of  the  sick:  and  the  woman 
might  be  instructed  to  contend  for  the  palm  of  science ;  to  pour  forth  elo- 
quence in  senates,  or  to  '  wade  through  fields  of  slaughter  to  a  throne.'  Yet 
revoltings  of  the  soul  would  attend  this  violence  to  nature,  this  abuse  of 
physical  and  intellectual  energy ;  while  the  beauty  of  social  order  would  be 
defaced,  and  the  fountain  of  earth's  felicity  broke  up.  We  arrive,  then,  at  the 
conclusion,  that  the  sexes  are  intended  for  different  spheres,  and  constructed 
in  conformity  to  their  respective  destinations,  by  Him  who  bids  the  oak  brave 
the  fury  of  the  tempest,  and  the  alpine  flower  lean  its  cheek  on  the  bosom  of 
eternal  snows.  But  disparity  does  not  imply  inferiority.  The  high  places  of 
the  earth,  with  all  their  pomp  and  glory,  are  indeed  accessable  only  to  the 
march  of  ambition,  or  the  grasp  of  power ;  yet  those  who  pass  with  faithful 
and  unapplauded  zeal  through  their  humble  round  of  duty,  are  not  unnoticed 
by  the  '  Great  Taskmaster's  eye ;'  and  their  endowments,  though  accounted 
poverty  among  men,  may  prove  durable  riches  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

In  the  volume  we  now  present  to  the  public,  the  end  and  aim  has  been,  to 
present  such  characters  as  have  been  ornaments  to  their  sex,  and  benefactors 
of  mankind,  by  a  display  of  more  than  ordinary  talents,  or  by  exhibiting 
exemplary  bearing,  or  superior  virtues,  or  pious  acts.  We  have  been  careful 
that  no  one  of  equivocal  reputation  should  be  found  in  our  pages,  nor  will 
they  be,  unless  the  reader  should  examine  too  closely  the  memoirs  of  queens. 
The  few  of  this  grade  we  have  mentioned,  are  only  brought  forward  as  dis- 
playing great  talents  in  high  places,  in  which  domestic  relations  are  in  a 
manner  forgotten. 

We  believe  it  to  be  a  well  authenticated  fact  in  the  history  of  man,  that  a 
child  is  more  indebted  to  his  mother  for  his  genius,  disposition,  and  constitu- 
tion, than  to  all  others.  History  supports  this  opinion,  if  carefully  examined; 
and  from  the  earliest  ages,  most  of  the  great  men  who  have  come  down  to 
us,  substantiate  the  fact  by  their  own  testimony.  In  more  modern  times,  like- 
wise, distinguished  individuals  have  been  enthusiastic  in  praise  of  their 
mothers.  Francis  Bacon's  mother  was  pre-eminent  in  genius  and  learning ; 
and  in  the  depths  of  his  philosophical  researches,  he  never  forgot  how  much 
he  was  indebted  to  her  for  what  he  was.  The  beautiful  and  sentimental 
verses  of  Cowper,  upon  the  picture  of  his  mother,  is  known  to  everyone  who 
opens  a  book,     Sir  William  Jones  attributes  his  learning  to  his  mother. 


INTRODUCTION.  IX 

Ciivier,  who  has  lately  gone  down  to  the  tomb  with  such  a  wonderful  share 
of  fame,  found  in  his  learned  and  accomplished  mother,  his  earliest  and 
best  instructor.  The  fortunate  son  of  a  noble  woman,  if  a  victor,  feels  the 
laurel  grow  greener  and  fresher  on  his  brow,  in  thinking  that  his  mother  lives 
to  enjoy  his  fame ;  but  half  the  leaves  of  his  crown  wither,  if  she  is  gone 
before  his  honors  fall  upon  him.  The  author  pursues  his  midnight  labors, 
cheered  with  the  knowledge  that  there  is  some  one  who  will  rejoice  in  his 
fame,  if  his  mother  is  alive. 

Every  one  will  agree,  that  the  purest  and  best  of  models  should  be  presented 
to  youth  who  are  forming  their  character ;  still  but  little  effort  has  been 
made  to  select  such  characters,  as  may  safely,  in  all  things,  be  held  up  for 
imitation.  The  good  has  too  often  been  mingled  with  the  bad,  and  thrown 
into  the  market.  The  chaff  has  seldom  been  separated  from  the  wheat,  as  it 
should  have  b^en.  It  is  true,  we  have  the  lives  of  saints  and  martyrs,  and 
those  eminently  pious  presented  to  us,  but  these  are  not  so  proper  for  general 
imitation,  as  those  pure  and  good  in  the  every  day  walks  of  life.  In  our 
country,  as  yet,  but  few  have  been  held  up  to  the  admiration  and  respect  of 
mankind.  The  growth  of  our  country  has  been  peculiar ;  it  has  no  parallel 
in  history.  Two  centuries  have  produced  a  new  empire,  and  the  purity  and 
elevation  of  the  female  character  has  done  more  towards  its  prosperity,  than 
the  world  can  understand.  Those  only  can  form  an  opinion  upon  their 
influence,  who  have  lived  for  many  years  among  all  classes  in  our  society, 
and  watched  the  course  of  discipline  and  education  among  us. 

Some  have  objected  to  bringing  women  forward,  as  inconsistent  with  female 
delicacy.  The  great  writers  of  the  old  testament  did  not  think  so.  They 
have  given  us  many  models  of  excellence  in  public  and  private  life,  which 
have  been  read  with  delight  for  four  thousand  years,  and  will  be,  as  long 
as  the  sun  and  moon  shall  endure.  If  it  were  not  proper  and  just  to  hold 
the  worthy  up  to  notice,  would  the  apostles  have  filled  their  writings  with 
the  names  and  deeds  of  women ;  those  too,  not  remarkable  for  birth,  for- 
tune, or  standing  in  society,  but  those  who,  by  their  virtues  and  their  zeal, 
assisted  to  spread  the  truths  of  the  gospel.  Shall  it  be  asked  by  our  posterity, 
when  they  read  of  the  deeds  of  their  fathers,  why  were  not  the  virtues  of  our 
primitive  mothers  put  on  record  also  1  would  the  answer  be  satisfactory,  their 
delicacy  forbade  it  1  Shall  all  nature  be  examined  for  knowledge,  every  shrub 
and  flower  transplanted  from  the  wilderness  to  the  garden,  and  those  of  the 
sweetest  perfume  in  the  moral  and  intellectual  world  be  forgotten  7 

Some  may  ask,  if  it  be  an  object  of  so  much  importance  in  your  creed,  to 
present  the  females  of  our  country  to  the  public,  why  do  you  not  fill  a  volume 
with  them  at  once,  unconnected  with  others  ?    Our  answer  to  this  is,  that 


X  INTRODUCTION. 

we  wrote  and  compiled  this  volume  to  be  attractive  to  young  ladies  in  our 
schools  and  at  home ;  and  we  believed  that  it  would  suit  their  tastes  better, 
and  be  more  beneficial  to  them,  in  taking  a  general  view  of  their  sex,  to  pre- 
sent them  with  characters  drawn  from  many  countries,  who  had  lived  in 
different  ages.  Those  who  would  make  a  large  party  would  not  wish  the 
visitors  to  be  all  family  connections.  It  is  not  so  much  what  is  written  at  any 
time,  as  what  you  can  make  others  read.  The  beauty  of  family  pictures  are 
not  always  seen  until  compared  with  others. 

It  must  be  confessed,  that  much  of  the  general  reading  of  the  present  time 
among  females,  as  well  as  others,  has  been  novels.  These,  properly  chosen, 
may  do  much  good ;  but  they  should  be  mixed  with  history  and  other  studies. 
But  that  education  which  greatly  abounds  in  them  before  the  mind  in  enrich- 
ed with  the  treasures  of  history  and  biography,  and  other  branches  of  know- 
ledge, is  apt  to  have  more  wing  and  feather  than  body.  The  learning  of  the 
females  of  our  country  has  not  been  sufficiently  masculine,  if  we  may  use 
the  expression.  They  have  been  more  directed  to  what  is  called  accomplish- 
ments, than  to  sound  knowledge.  In  all  the  elements  of  education,  the 
difference  of  sex  should  never  be  thought  of.  Philosophy  knows  no  difference 
of  sexes,  in  her  beginnings.  It  is  only  in  manners  that  a  difference  should  be 
insisted  upon.  In  manners,  a  female  should  never  forget  her  sex;  even  from 
the  cradle,  she  should  know  the  delicacy  that  is  expected  of  a  female,  in  the 
first  lispings  of  infancy.  Nature  assists  the  suggestions  of  education.  Mind 
has,  in  the  early  hours  of  life,  no  sex ;  but  sex  should  have  its  manners ;  and 
the  courtesies  of  life  will  soon  serve  to  keep  the  distinction.  The  science 
and  letters  of  the  boudoir,  may  have  something  in  them  different  from  ihe 
lecture  room  in  form,  but  not  in  substance.  History,  biography,  poetry, 
painting,  and  all  matters  of  taste,  may  be  differently  arranged,  according,  if 
you  please,  to  a  sexual  discrimination ;  but,  if  this  is  done  naturally,  there  can 
be  no  great  difference  after  all.  Well  educated  women  have  always  an  oppor- 
tunity, greater  or  less,  to  add  some  ornaments  of  botany,  conchology,  natural 
history,  painting,  and  poetry.  When  we  name  poetry,  we  do  not  mean  that 
every  female  should  write  poetry  against  inchnation  or  taste ;  but  we  do 
distinctly  mean,  that  a  part  of  every  woman's  education,  should  be  an 
acquaintance  with  the  laws  of  rhyme,  and  rhythm.  A  little  attention  to  the 
principles  and  rules  of  rhetoric  and  poetry  would  soon  teach  them  this ;  but 
if  it  is  neglected  at  school,  it  is  seldom  acquired  afterwards.  Two  days  atten- 
tion to  these  rules  would  be  sufficient,  with  a  htile  practice  in  scanning,  to 
give  a  young  lady  a  knowledge  of  the  "  measure  of  verse."  We  have  known 
women  much  more  learned  than  men,  who  always  thought  themselves  inferior 
to  these  men,  because  the  men  had  attended  to  a  few  technicaUties,  and  rules 


INTRODUCTION.  XI 

of  different  sciences,  which  the  females  had  neglected.  Forms  seldom  make 
any  part  of  a  female's  knowledge ;  she  reasons  often  admirably  without  thmk- 
ing  of  a  logical  rule.  If  females,  to  use  a  legislative  phrase,  would  learn  a  few 
of  the  rules  and  orders  of  presenting  a  subject  to  the  understanding,  they  would 
find  their  account  in  it.  Miss  Edgeworth  and  Hannah  More,  were  wise 
enough  in  early  life,  to  study  the  technicahties  of  logic,  as  well  as  the  best 
mode  of  reasoning.  They  have  found  an  advantage  in  this.  When  feeble  or 
ill  natured  men  criticise  the  works  of  women,  their  first  charge  is,  their  want 
of  the  knowledge  of  the  rules  of  dialectic  philosophy.  By  understanding 
these  rules.  Miss  Hannah  More  has  enlightened  prelates,  and  written  models 
for  young  divines  to  form  their  sermons  upon.  Her  character  of  Saint  Paul 
is  not  only  an  admirable  piece  of  biography,  with  connections  and  depend- 
ences, but  every  trait  is  thiuwn  into  the  picture,  with  a  skill  that  would  do 
honor  to  a  master  painter.  There  have  been  those  who  saw  as  clearly,  felt 
as  strongly,  and  perhaps  had  more  genius  than  Hannah  More,  who  have 
been  surpassed  by  her,  from  the  skill  with  which  she  managed  her  subject : 
and  this  skill  probably  arose  from  her  having  been  obliged  to  learn  those  rules 
that  she  might  be  able  to  teach  them  to  others,  in  her  school.  This  skill  is 
seen  in  the  writings  of  Mrs.  Barbauld,  for  she,  too,  had  to  instruct  others. 
But  they  are  not  well  regarded  by  Shakspearian  Bailie ;  she  studied  the  bard 
of  Avon  more  than  the  rules  of  Quintilian  or  Lilly.  The  Newtonian  Somer- 
ville  found  her  rules  in  her  subject.  The  females  of  our  country  hardly  know 
that  one  of  their  sex,  Mrs.  Somerville,  has  written  the  "Mechanism  of  the 
Heavens,"  so  deeply,  so  clearly,  so  happily,  that  the  sage  reviewers,  in  works 
of  standard  authority,  have  lavished  more  praise  on  the  extraordinary  talents, 
displayed  in  her  work  on  astronomy,  than  has  ever  been  given  in  modern 
times  to  any  but  Newton,  La  Place,  and  Bowditch.  The  style  of  this  rare 
woman  is  as  lovely  as  the  light  that  shone  upon  her  mind,  as  she  traversed 
the  zodiac,  and  measured  the  parallaxes  of  the  stars.  She  not  only  trod  the 
impalpable  and  paMess  heavens,  but  on  her  journey,  saw  the  God  who  made 
them,  as  she  contemplated  his  works. 

The  females  of  this  age  are,  indeed,  thrice  blessed  in  their  advantages  for 
gaining  information,  and  they  do  credit  to  their  opportunities.  After  the 
adoption  of  the  federal  constitution,  when  the  country  began  to  feel  the  pros- 
perity that  followed  that  glorious  event,  many  judicious  parents  became  fully 
sensible,  that  the  schools  for  female  education  were  not  sufficient  in  number 
and  respectabiUty,  to  answer  the  wishes  and  expectations  of  the  people. 
Academies  were  soon  incorporated  and  endowed,  for  the  purpose  of  advan- 
cing female  education,  united  with  the  intention  of  giving  males  a  better 
opportunity  of  getting  information,  than  the  common  schools  could  furnish. 


XU  INTRODUCTION. 

These  establishments  flourished  very  well,  for  a  while,  but  the  existence  of 
most  of  them  was  ephemeral.  The  education  obtained  at  these  institutions 
was  in  general  superficial,  arising  from  numerous  causes.  The  pupils  had 
not  sufficient  time  allowed  them  to  become  learned ;  they  grasped  every  thing 
at  once,  and  of  course,  learned  nothing  well.  A  term  or  two,  was  thought 
sufficient  for  any  one  to  gain  great  stores  of  knowledge  at  these  seminaries. 
They  skimmed  the  surface,  essayed  to  catch  the  ornamental,  and  disregarded, 
or  had  not  time  to  attend  to  the  solid.  After  a  few  years  trial,  most  of  these 
institutions  went  down.  There  was  too  much  expected  of  them.  One  or 
two  teachers  only  were  engaged  to  instruct,  in  all  branches ;  one  from  plain 
sewing  to  embroidery,  and  one  only  from  chirography  to  the  elements  of 
Euclid;  and  not  much  in  each  branch  could  be  expected  of  them. 

In  the  new  schools  which  were  formed,  a  better  division  of  labor  was  made, 
and  they  went  on  better  than  before.  Still  there  were  many  evils  existing, 
which  yielded,  one  after  another,  to  experience,  and  to  a  more  liberal  patron- 
age. Better  systems  were  devised,  and  these  were  daily  improved  upon,  until 
we  now  have  many  female  schools,  that  are  not  behind  the  spirit  of  the  age 
in  general  improvement. 

A  taste  for  reading  and  judging  of  character  is  as  much  acquired,  as  a 
taste  for  examining  and  criticising  the  pictures  of  the  great  artists.  Biography 
should  hold  a  place  between  geography  and  history,  and  should  be  studied  as 
systematically  as  either.  When  countries  are  known  by  boundaries,  those 
who  lived  and  acted  in  them,  individually  should,  if  distinguished  be  known 
before  history  takes  up  the  doings  of  the  nation. 

The  world  is  busy  in  raising  the  standard  of  science  and  letters  and  we 
are  not  behind  the  best  of  them.  Women  are  sharing  with  men  all  the 
advantages  of  primary,  secondary,  and  high  schools.  The  sage  lecturer  finds 
his  room  crowded  with  females,  anxious  to  know  what  he  has  to  teach.  Al 
that  is  taught  in  these  schools,  is  brought  to  the  social  circle,  whether  moral, 
literary,  or  scientific.  Education  throws  a  charm  over  every  hour  of  life, 
enters  all  its  duties,  pleasures,  and  hopes,  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave. 

The  world  is  one  great  school,  and  every  one,  well  grounded  in  elementary 
knowledge,  is  learning  some  valuable  lesson  every  day.  Being  well  versed 
in  geography,  biography,  and  history,  all  things  seem  to  come  into  one  vast 
panorama,  and  the  mind  darts  a  glance  over  it  at  will,  and  selects  passages 
of  deep  interest  for  contemplation. 

Editor. 


FEMALE   BIOGRAPHY. 


Hannah  Adams,  a  name  identifed  with  American  literature, 
was  born  at  Medfield,  eighteen  miles  from  Boston,  in  the  year 
1755.  Her  father  was  the  son  of  a  wealthy  yeoman  who  had 
an  extensive  farm,  and  gave  his  only  child  a  good  early  edu- 
cation, extending  so  far  as  the  preparing  him  in  the  lan- 
guages, and  other  branches  of  knowledge,  to  enter  college :  but 
suddenly  he  called  his  boy  home  to  make  him  a  farmer,  for 
which  it  seems  he  could  have  been  but  indifferently  qualified. 
In  addition  to  his  agricultural  pursuits,  her  father  opened  a 
country  store,  and  among  other  varieties  sold  books,  to  which  he 
was  more  attached  than  to  corn-bins  and  hay-stacks.  He  was 
married  early  and  had  several  children.  The  subject  of  this 
memoir  was  his  second  daughter.  Miss  Hannah  Adams  always 
represented  her  mother  as  an  excellent  woman,  but  one  who  was 
very  indulgent  to  her  daughter,  and  made  her  a  pet  child ;  for 
she  was  an  invalid  from  her  cradle.  At  the  age  of  ten  years, 
Miss  Adams  lost  this  excellent  parent,  just  at  the  time  she  most 
wanted  her  kind  and  careful  attentions.  There  were  no  good 
schools  in  the  neighbourhood  at  that  time ;  but  such  as  they  were, 
it  does  not  appear  that  she  ever  tried  them,  learning  to  read  and 
write  at  home.  She  was  a  most  inveterate  devourer  of  all  books 
that  came  in  her  way,  probably  without  any  particular  discrimi- 
nation; sermons,  controversial  divinity,  novels,  history,  tales  of 
conversions,  of  Indian  wars,  and  all  that  mass  of  strange  med- 
leys, which  at  that  period  of  our  literature,  and  long  since,  floated 
through  a  country  village.  Such  was  her  desire  for  knowledge, 
that  sisterly  affection,  and  parental  authority,  were  often  exerted 
to  tear  her  from  her  books.     Many  of  the  best  English  authors 

had  at  this  time  been  printed  in  Boston  ;    and  she  committed  to 

2 


14  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

memory  nearly  the  whole  of  Milton,  Young-,  Pope,  Thomson, 
Armstrong,  and  others  of  this  school.  Shakspeare  had  not 
then  come  into  vogue,  being  read  then  only  by  a  few :  but  the 
instant  she  had  possession  of  the  work,  it  riveted  her  attention, 
notwithstanding,  on  this  side  of  the  water,  the  merits  of  the  great 
child  of  nature  had  not  been  generally  known  or  acknowledged. 
She,  at  this  time,  studied  every  work  on  history  and  geography 
she  could  reach,  and  became  a  wonderful  proficient  in  these 
branches  of  learning. 

While  engaged  in  these  wanderings,  in  the  general  fields  of 
literature,  her  father  failed.  It  was  in  those  evil  times  which 
preceded  the  revolution,  and  the  family  was  thrown  from  abun- 
dance, if  not  from  wealth,  to  penury  and  want.  This  was  a  sad 
reverse  for  Miss  Adams,  for  in  her  studious  reveries,  she  had 
never  thought  of  the  necessity  of  doing  any  thing  in  the  way  of 
earning  a  living,  nor  was  she  bred  to  the  knowledge  of  house- 
hold duties.  Miss  Adams  was  not  then  known  out  of  a  small 
reading  party ;  and  in  fact,  there  was  no  literary  public  at  that 
day  for  her  to  rest  upon,  and  from  whom  to  expect  succor. 
Her  sister,  a  less  literary  woman  than  herself,  knew  more  of 
human  nature,  and  made  a  better  guide  for  her  than  often  falls 
to  the  lot  of  helpless  females ;  she  advised  with  her  in  all  things. 
At  this  time  her  father  took  into  his  house  some  boarders,  who  had 
received  a  classical  education ;  they  were  either  pursuing  some 
profession,  or  had  just  entered  into  some  one.  From  these  she 
learned  Latin  and  Greek ;  and  as  she  always  pursued  matters 
thoroughly,  she  made  herself  a  good  scholar  in  these  branches 
of  knowledge.  But  at  that  period  there  seemed  to  be  no  oppor- 
tunity for  her  to  exercise  her  talents,  'or  display  her  acquirements. 
There  was  not  a  female  academy  in  the  thirteen  states.  At  this 
time  she  acknowledges  that  she  had  no  strength  of  constitution, 
or  firmness  of  purpose.  During  the  revolutionary  war  she 
learned  to  make  lace  with  cushion  and  bobbins,  and  for  several 
years  this  Avas  a  lucrative  female  employment.  This  manufac- 
tory had  been  in  use  in  old  Ipswich,  in  that  commonwealth,  ever 
since  the  first  settlement  of  the  country.  The  first  settlers  brought 
th^  cushion  and  bobbin  with  them  from  England,  and  many  a 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  15 

good  old  dame  who  had  no  other,  was  comfortable  by  this  profes- 
sion. The  art  had  been  brought  with  them  from  Ipswich,  in  the 
mother  country,  and  the  taste  for  the  consumption  of  the  arti- 
cle also.  The  show  of  lace  generally  increased  with  years  of 
single  blessedness.  The  importation  of  lace  was  nearly  cut  off, 
and  the  home-made  was  used,  to  a  very  considerable  extent,  du- 
ring the  eight  years  of  war.  When  the  peace  took  place,  this 
business  was  in  a  measure  destroyed,  and  she  was  out  of  em- 
ployment again.  She  could  not  keep  a  country  school ;  her 
nerves  would  not  permit  it.  She  now  undertook,  and  with  great 
success,  to  prepare  a  few  young  gentlemen  for  college;  and 
when  they  repaired  to  Cambridge  for  examination,  they  were 
found  to  be  most  admirably  fitted  to  enter  the  institution.  This 
was  a  novelty,  and  gave  her  great  fame  thoughout  the  country, 
but  little  pecuniary  profit.  At  this  period  she  accidentally  fell 
upon  Broughton's  dictionary  of  religious  sects,  and  reading  this 
work  with  avidity  and  pleasure,  she  began  to  make  remarks 
upon  it.  The  history  of  the  different  sects  in  religion  took  entire 
possession  of  her  mind,  and  she  pushed  her  inquiries  into  the 
wide  field  of  fact  and  speculation  with  unrestrained  ardor.  She 
read  of  creeds  until  her  mind  grew  weary  of  conjecturing  which 
was  right ;  and  she  pondered  upon  what  she  read  until  she  knew 
not  what  to  believe :  but  she  was  determined  to  give  her  lucubra- 
tions to  the  public.  She  had  so  exhausted  her  mind,  in  making 
this  effort,  that  she  had  a  severe  fit  of  sickness  ;  and  the  benevo- 
lent Dr.  Mann,  then  at  Wrentham,  came  to  her  relief,  and  she  was 
saved  from  the  grave.  There  is  no  subject  that  falls  to  the  lot  of 
man  to  discuss,  that  so  much  disturbs  the  mind  as  the  contempla- 
tion of  numerous  religious  creeds.  Happy  is  he  who  has  some 
guide  and  settled  opinions,  and  is  not  left  on  the  sea  of  uncer- 
tainty in  forming  his  own  opmions  on  religious  subjects.  With 
a  purity  of  mind,  and  an  honesty  of  purpose,  seldom,  if  ever 
equalled,  Miss  Adams  was  lost  in  doubt,  until  her  corporeal 
frame  sunk  under  it,  and  her  mental  powers  were  near  following. 
But  she  was  determined  to  publish,  at  all  hazards ;  and  she 
was  not  the  first  parent  who  cherished  her  offspring  at  the 
risk  of  her  own  life.     Her  first  edition  gave  her  nothing  but 


16  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

fame.  The  booksellers  of  that  day  thought  they  did  well  not  to 
involve  the  author  in  expense.  This  edition  went  off  well ;  so 
well,  that  the  publisher  wrote  to  her  that  he  was  about  giving  a 
second  to  the  public.  This  liberty  she  peremptorily  denied  him, 
and  made  arrangments  herself  to  bring  out  a  second  edition. 
For  this  purpose  she  went  to  Boston,  and  consulted  with  Dr. 
Freeman,  a  fine  scholar,  and  also  one  of  the  most  benevolent  of 
men.  He  made  an  advantageous  bargain  for  her,  as  literary 
labors  were  then  estimated,  but  what  would  be  considered  a  pal- 
try sum  at  the  present  day,  among  the  best  publishers  in  any 
city  of  the  Union.  Her  next  publication  was  the  history  of 
New  England.  At  this  time  there  were  but  few  standard  works 
on  the  history  of  any  part  of  New  England,  except  Massachu- 
setts ;  and  she  was  too  honest  to  take  any  thing  on  any  single 
authority.  She  went  back  to  primitive  authorities,  and  of  course 
found  it  a  laborious  task  to  finish  her  book.  She  began  to 
abridge  this  work  for  schools,  but  was  forestalled  by  a  book  maker : 
but  the  dispute  has  been  settled  in  her  favor,  and  nothing  more 
need  be  said  on  the  subject.  The  course  then  pursued  among 
writers  was  more  honorable  than  it  has  been  in  later  times,  when 
men,  considered  as  honest,  and  men  high  in  public  favor,  have 
not  hesitated  to  retard  others,  that  they  might  figure  in,  and  reap 
the  harvest  of  glory  or  profit.  The  diseases  of  envy  and  ava- 
rice infest  literary  as  well  as  other  men. 

The  next  work  of  Miss  Adams  was  a  review  of  the  Christian 
religion.  This  is  a  most  satisfactory  and  candid  work  :  one  can- 
not read  it  Avithout  acknowledging  that  it  is  the  work  of  a  capa- 
cious and  an  enlightened  mind.  In  the  abridgment  of  her  his- 
tory of  New  England,  one  misfortune  did  not  come  alone.  The 
publisher  of  the  first  edition  failed,  and  she  lost  the  whole. 
Another  was  tried,  and  she  was  equally  unfortunate  with  him. 
She  was  depressed,  but  not  discouraged;  and  kept  on  with  her 
pen,  although  nothing  of  a  permanent  advantage  had  yet  accrued 
from  all  her  labors,  excepting  an  extensive  fame. 

Her  next  work  was  on  the  history  of  the  Jews.  She  was  read 
deeply  on  this  subject,  and  was  fired  with  enthusiasm  in  the 
cause  of  this  long  persecuted  people.     The  scripture  history  of 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  17 

the  Jews  was  known  to  all  her  friends,  for  they  were  born  in 
New  England,  and  had  read  the  bible  attentively ;  but  what  had 
become  of  them  since  the  New  Testament  was  written,  the  people 
did  not  know,  and  did  not  much  care,  until  she  excited  an  inter- 
est in  their  favor.  She  pursued  the  subject  with  the  same  enthu- 
siasm she  had  other  subjects,  and  was  almost  identified  with  the 
sisters  of  Israel,  although  a  good  Christian  herself  This  is  a 
subject  of  deep  interest,  considered  in  a  historical  or  religious 
view ;  and  comes  in  most  forcibly  to  prove  the  Christian  dispen- 
sation. This  book  sold  well;  but  some  of  her  subscribers 
wished  the  Jews  in  the  Red  Sea,  with  the  host  of  Pharaoh,  when 
they  took  it  for  her  sake  alone.  But  those  who  took  pains  to 
read  the  work  were  delighted  with  it,  for  the  research,  the  candor, 
the  piety,  and  the  good  judgment,  shown  in  the  volume.  Other 
works,  since  that  time,  have  been  written  upon  the  subject,  and 
all  go  to  prove  the  value  of  hers. 

By  this  time  her  fame  had  extended  to  Europe ;  and  she  had 
many  valuable  correspondents,  among  whom  was  the  celebrated 
Abbe  Gregoire,  who  had  struggled  hard  in  France  for  the  eman- 
cipation of  the  Jews  from  the  disabilities  under  which  they  had  for 
ages  labored.  The  Abbe,  with  all  his  eccentricities,  had  the 
heart  of  a  philanthropist.  He  sent  Miss  Adams  several  works 
on  the  Jews,  which  she  acknowledged  were  of  great  service  to 
her  in  writing  the  work  she  was  engaged  upon.  The  learned 
men  of  this  country  assisted  her,  whenever  she  gave  them  an 
opportunity,  which  she  always  cheerfully  acknowledged.  Among 
others,  that  sweet  minstrel  of  Israel,  the  Reverend  Joseph  Ste- 
vens Buckminster.  He  cheered:  her  in  her  path,  threw  no 
doubts  in  her  way,  and  whenever  she  grew  weary,  or  desponded, 
like  a  good  friend,  he  raised  her  spirits  to  new  exertions.  The 
literati  of  her  neighborhood  were  always  on  the  watch  to  assist 
her ;  and  she  was  not  ungrateful  for  their  kindnesses. 

While  she  was  under  the  most  fearful  apprehensions  for  the 
future,  when  her  literary  enterprises  were  in  their  most  disas- 
trous state,  from  the  failure  of  booksellers  and  other  causes,  three 
distinguished  lovers  of  letters,  and  true  philanthropists,  Stephen 
Higginson,   Josiah  Gluincy,  and  William  S.  Shaw,  set  about 

2* 


18  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

devising  ways  and  means  to  secure  Miss  Adams  a  competent 
annuity  for  life.  This  was  effected  without  any  public  appeal 
to  the  generosity  of  the  patrons  of  literature,  but  was  arranged 
so  privately,  that  neither  Miss  Adams  nor  those  about  her  knew 
of  it  until  all  was  settled  and  the  first  quarter's  rent  paid  in 
advance.  This  was  truly  a  noble  act,  and  reflects  high  honor 
on  the  character  of  the  Bostonians.  Miss  Adams  was  not  a 
woman  of  the  highest  order  of  genius;  but  modesty,  sound  sense, 
and  extensive  learning,  were  eminently  hers.  She  had  no  pre- 
judices to  overcome,  no  vices  to  correct,  and  no  party  feelings  to 
restrain.  She  was  ill  constructed  for  bearing  the  evils  of  exist- 
ence ;  easily  disheartened,  and  wanted  the  soothings  of  those  of 
influence  to  keep  her  quiet.  The  writer  does  not  remember  that 
her  works  were  ever  severely  criticised  by  any  reviewer,  in 
England  or  the  United  States ;  but  most  assuredly,  many  good 
things  have  been  said  of  her  writings,  in  both  countries. 

In  the  last  twenty  years  of  her  life,  Miss  Adams  was  a  fortu- 
nate woman.  There  was  a  large  circle  of  elderly  ladies,  Mrs, 
Codman,  Shaw,  Dowse,  Bussy,  and  in  fact,  many  others,  Avho 
gave  her  general  invitations  to  their  houses,  and  she  was  inti- 
mate with  them  at  all  times ;  and  it  was  at  their  tables  that  she 
formed  many  of  her  acquaintances  which  she  valued.  Many  of 
them  were  eager  to  become  subscribers  for  her  works,  as  they 
were  announced.  In  looking  over  her  productions,  we  see  a 
most  extraordinary  spirit  of  candor,  breathing  in  every  sentence 
that  she  wrote.  She  gave  us  a  good  history  of  New  England 
for  schools,  and  for  the  young  reader,  as  it  is  so  honest,  and 
shows  so  much  industry,  and  it  is  not  wanting  in  philosophical 
remark.  She  lived  long  among  those  friends,  and  they  did  not 
grow  tired  of  her  as  she  grew  old,  as  is  often  the  case,  but  petted 
her  as  much  when  she  groped  her  way,  half  blind,  to  their  doors, 
as  they  did  when  she  was  commencing  her  career  in  Boston. 

Miss  Adams  died  on  the  fifteenth  of  November,  1832,  of  gene- 
ral decay,  aged  seventy-six.  The  public  feeling,  which  had  sup- 
ported her  for  so  many  years,  did  not  desert  her  in  death.  The 
tasteful  part  of  that  vicinity  had  previously  purchased  a  most 
romantic  spot,  not  far  from  the  university  of  Cambridge,  for  a 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  19 

classical  burying  ground  and  garden,  and  it  was  nearly  in  readi- 
ness to  receive  the  dead,  when  she  wanted  a  grave.  By  one  of 
those  felicitous  thoughts,  which  always  attend  the  sentimental 
and  tasteful,  it  was  decreed  that  she  should  be  the  first  buried  at 
Mount  Auburn,  and  that  a  plain  and  simple  monument  should 
be  erected  on  the  spot  where  her  ashes  should  repose.  She  was 
buried  there,  and  the  monument  has  been  erected  on  the  conse- 
crated ground. 

The  honor  of  such  a  burial  will  do  more  to  perpetuate  the 
fame  of  Miss  Adams,  than  the  erection  of  the  most  splendid 
mausoleum  that  science  and  taste  could  devise,  or  weahh  com- 
plete. But  little  had  been  done  to  honor  the  mighty  dead  of 
our  country,  in  the  way  of  monuments  or  epitaphs.  At  Wash- 
ington and  at  New  Haven,  some  taste  had  been  displayed,  and 
some  feeling  evinced ;  but  it  was  left  for  the  good  people  of 
Boston  to  reach  a  near  approximation  of  that  beau  ideal  of  the 
resting  place  of  the  dead,  which  every  one  of  sentiment  has  had 
a  thousand  times  on  hits?  mind,  when  he  contemplated  the  sub- 
ject of  his  own  dissolution.  An  association  of  gentlemen,  whose 
taste  had  often  revolted  at  the  indifference  shown  to  the  ashes  of 
departed  friends,  fixed  upon  a  plan,  and  purchased  an  extensive 
tract  of  land  for  a  cemetery.  The  description  they  have  given 
of  it  is  as  follows : 

"  The  tract  of  land,  which  has  received  the  name  of  Mount 
Auburn,  is  situated  on  the  southerly  side  of  the  main  road  lead- 
ing from  Cambridge  to  Watertown,  and  is  partly  within  the  limits 
of  each  of  those  towns.  Its  distance  from  Boston  is  about  four 
miles.  The  place  was  formerly  known  by  the  name  of  Stone's 
Woods,  the  title  to  mo.st  of  the  land  having  remained  in  the  family 
of  Stone,  from  an  early  period  after  the  settlement  of  the  coun- 
try. Within  a  few  years,  the  hill  and  part  of  the  woodland  were 
offered  for  sale,  and  were  purchased  by  George  W.  Brimmer, 
Esq.,  whose  object  was  to  prevent  the  destruction  of  the  trees, 
and  to  preserve  so  beautiful  a  spot  for  some  public  or  appropri- 
ate use.  The  purchase,  which  has  now  been  made  by  the  Hor- 
ticultural Society,  includes  between  seventy  and  eighty  acres, 
extending  from  the  road  nearly  to  the  banks  of  Charles  river. 


20  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

A  portion  of  the  lane  situated  next  to  the  road,  and  now  under 
cultivation,  is  intended  to  constitute  the  Eperimental  Garden  of 
the  Horticultural  Society.  A  long  water  course,  extending  be- 
tween this  tract  and  the  interior  woodland,  forms  a  natural  bound- 
ary, separating  the  two  sections.  The  inner  portion,  which  is  set 
apart  for  the  purpose  of  a  cemetery,  is  covered  throughout  most 
of  its  extent  with  a  vigorous  growth  of  forest  trees,  many  of  them 
of  large  size,  and  comprising  an  unusual  variety  of  kinds.  This 
tract  is  beautifully  undulating  in  its  surface,  containing  a  number 
of  bold  eminences,  steep  acclivities,  and  deep  shadowy  vallies.  A 
remarkable  natural  ridge,  with  a  level  surface,  runs  through  the 
ground  from  southeast  to  northwest,  and  has  for  many  years  been 
known  as  a  secluded  and  favorite  walk.  The  principal  emi- 
nence, called  Mount  Auburn  in  the  plan,  is  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  feet  above  the  level  of  Charles  river,  and  commands 
from  its  summit  one  of  the  finest  prospects  which  can  be  obtained 
in  the  environs  of  Boston.  On  one  side  is  the  city  in  full  view, 
connected  at  its  extremities  with  Charle^on  and  Roxbury.  The 
serpentine  course  of  Charles  river,  with  the  cultivated  hills  and 
fields  rising  beyond  it,  and  having  the  Blue  Hills  of  Milton  in 
the  distance,  occupies  another  portion  of  the  landscape.  The 
village  of  Cambridge,  with  the  venerable  edifices  of  Harvard 
University,  are  situated  about  a  mile  to  the  eastward.  On  the 
north,  at  a  very  small  distance.  Fresh  Pond  appears,  a  handsome 
sheet  of  Avater,  finely  diversified  by  its  woody  and  irregular 
shores.  Country  seats  and  cottages,  seen  in  various  directions, 
and  especially  those  on  the  elevated  land  at  Watertown,  add  much 
to  the  picturesque  efiect  of  the  scene.  It  is  proposed  to  erect,  on 
the  summit  of  Mount  Auburn,  a  tower,  after  some  classic  model, 
of  sufiicient  height  to  rise  above  the  tops  of  the  surrounding  trees. 
This  will  serve  the  double  purpose  of  a  landmark  to  identify  the 
spot  from  a  distance,  and  of  an  observatory,  commanding  an 
uninterrupted  view  of  the  country  around  it.  From  the  foot  of 
this  monument  will  be  seen  in  detail  the  features  of  the  land- 
scape, as  they  are  successively  presented  through  the  different 
vistas  which  have  been  opened  among  the  trees ;  while  from 
its  summit,  a  magnificent  and  unbroken  panorama,  embracmg 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  21 

one  of  the  most  delightful  tracts  in  New  England,  will  he  spread 
out  beneath  the  eye.  Not  only  the  contiguous  country,  hut  the 
harbor  and  bay  of  Boston,  with  their  ships  and  islands,  and,  in 
a  clear  atmosphere,  the  distant  mountains  of  Wachusett,  and 
probably  even  of  Monadnock,  will  be  comprehended  within  the 
range  of  vision. 

"  The  grounds  of  the  cemetery  have  been  laid  out  with  inter- 
secting avenues,  so  as  to  render  every  part  of  the  wood  acces- 
sible. These  avenues  are  curved,  and  variously  winding  in 
their  course,  so  as  to  be  adapted  to  the  natural  inequalities  of  the 
surface.  By  this  arrangement  the  greatest  economy  of  the  land 
is  produced,  combining  at  the  same  time  the  picturesque  effect  of 
landscape  gardening.  Over  the  more  level  portions,  the  avenues 
are  made  twenty  feet  wide,  and  are  suitable  for  carriage  roads. 
The  more  broken  and  precipitous  parts  are  approached  by  foot 
paths,  which  are  six  feet  in  width.  These  passage-ways  are  to 
be  smoothly  gravelled,  and  planted  on  both  sides  with  flowers 
and  ornamental  shrubs.  Lots  of  ground,  containing  each  three 
hundred  square  feet,  are  set  ofl*  as  family  burial  places,  at  suit- 
able distances,  on  the  sides  of  the  avenues  and  paths.  The  per- 
petual right  of  inclosing,  and  of  using  these  lots  as  places  of 
sepulture,  is  conveyed  to  the  purchasers  of  them  by  the  Horti- 
cultural Society.  It  is  confidently  expected  that  many  of  the 
proprietors  will,  without  delay,  proceed  to  erect  upon  their  lots 
such  monuments  and  appropriate  structures  as  will  give  to  the 
place  a  part  of  the  solemnity  and  beauty  which  it  is  destined  ulti- 
mately to  acquire. 

"  It  has  been  voted  to  procure,  or  construct,  a  receiving  tomb 
in  Boston,  and  another  at  Mount  Auburn,  at  which,  if  desired, 
funerals  may  terminate,  and  in  which  the  remains  of  the 
deceased  may  be  deposited,  until  such  times  as  the  friends  shall 
choose  to  direct  their  removal  to  the  cemetery ;  this  period,  how- 
ever, not  to  exceed  six  months. 

•'  The  principal  entrance  to  Mount  Auburn  will  be  through  a 
lofty  Egyptian  gate-way,  which  it  is  proposed  to  erect  on  the 
main  road,  at  the  commencement  of  the  central  avenue.  Another 
entrance  or  gateway  is  provided  on  the  cross  road,  at  the  eastern 


22  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

foot  of  the  hill.  Whenever  the  funds  of  the  corporation  shall 
justify  the  expense,  it  is  proposed  that  a  small  Grecian  or  Gothic 
temple  shall  be  erected  on  a  conspicuous  eastern  eminence, 
which,  in  reference  to  this  allotment,  has  received  the  prospective 
name  of  Temple  Hill. 

*'  The  recent  purchase  and  disposition  of  the  grounds  at 
Mount  Auburn  has  effected  the  consummation  of  the  two  designs, 
which,  for  a  considerable  time,  have  been  cherished  by  nume- 
rous members  of  the  community,  in  the  city  of  Boston  and  its 
vicinity.  One  of  these  is  the  institution  of  a  garden  for  the  pro- 
motion of  scientific  horticulture;  the  other,  the  establishment, 
in  the  environs  of  the  city,  of  a  retired  and  ornamented  place  of 
sepulture." 

This  city  of  the  dead  was  consecrated  by  religious  ceremo 
nies,  and  by  an  oration  from  one  who  had  often  embalmed  depart 
ed  virtue  and  greatness  by  eloquence  and  song.  We  have  heard 
him  breathe  a  deep  lament  "  over  the  ocean  warrior,  festering 
in  his  shroud,"  have  listened  to  his  analysis  of  the  mental  pow- 
ers of  the  greatest  jurist  of  the  age;  and  was  there  too,  when  he 
paid  a  just  tribute  to  the  fame  of  a  profound  statesman  and  orator. 
To  Lawrence,  Parsons,  and  Dexter,  Story  has  erected  monu- 
ments of  more  enduring  materials  than  marble  or  brass,  on  the 
pages  of  his  country's  history.  On  this  last  occasion,  buried 
ages  passed  before  him ;  and  as  he  assisted  in  consecrating  the 
ground,  and  in  indulging  in  an  almost  Egyptian  solicitude  for  the 
mortal  remains  of  kindred  and  friends,  \isions  of  the  Christian's 
hopes  and  glory  burst  upon  him,  and  the  victory  was  taken  from 
the  grave,  and  the  sting  from  death.  The  following  is  an 
extract  from  Judge  Story's  address. 

"My  Friends. — The  occasion  which  brings  us  together  has 
much  in  it  calculated  to  awaken  our  sensibilities,  and  cast  a 
solemnity  over  our  thoughts. 

"  We  are  met  to  consecrate  these  grounds  exclusively  to  the 
service  and  repose  of  the  dead. 

"  The  duty  is  not  new ;  for  it  has  been  performed  for  countless 
millions.  The  scenery  is  not  new;  for  the  hill  and  the  valley,  the 
still  silent  dell,  and  the  deep  forest,  have  often  been  devoted  to  the 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  23 

same  pious  purpose.  But  that  which  must  always  give  it  a 
peculiar  interest  is,  that  it  can  rarely  occur  except  at  distant 
intervals;  and,  whenever  it  does,  it  must  address  itself  to  feel- 
ings intelligible  to  all  nations,  and  common  to  all  hearts. 

"  The  patriarchal  language  of  four  thousand  years  ago  is 
precisely  that  to  which  we  would  now  give  utterance.  We  are 
'strangers  and  sojourners'  here.  We  have  need  of  'a  posses- 
sion of  a  burying  place,  that  we  may  bury  our  dead  out  of  our 
sight.'  Let  us  have  'the  field,  and  the  cave  which  is  therein; 
and  all  the  trees  that  are  in  the  field,  and  that  are  in  the  borders 
round  about;'  and  let  them  'be  made  sure  for  a  possession  of  a 
burying  place.' 

"  It  is  the  duty  of  the  living  thus  to  provide  for  the  dead.  It 
is  not  a  mere  office  of  pious  regard  for  others ;  but  it  comes  home 
to  our  own  bosoms,  as  those  who  are  soon  to  enter  upon  the  com- 
mon inheritance. 

"  If  there  are  any  feelings  of  our  nature  not  bounded  by  earth, 
and  yet  stopping  short  of  the  skies,  which  are  more  strong  and 
more  universal  than  all  others,  they  will  be  found  in  our  solici- 
tude as  to  the  time,  and  place,  and  manner  of  our  death ;  in  the 
desire  to  die  in  the  arms  of  our  friends ;  to  have  the  last  sad 
offices  to  our  remains  performed  by  their  affection ;  to  repose  in 
the  land  of  our  nativity ;  to  be  gathered  to  the  sepulchres  of  our 
fathers.  It  is  almost  impossible  for  us  to  feel,  nay,  even  to  feign, 
indifierence  on  such  a  subject. 

"  Poetry  has  told  us  this  truth  in  lines  of  transcendant  beauty 
and  force,  which  find  a  response  in  every  breast : 

'For  who,  to  dumb  Forgetfulness  a  prey. 
This  pleasing,  anxious  being  e'er  resigned, 

Left  the  warm  precincts  of  the  cheerful  day. 
Nor  cast  one  longing,  hngering  look  behind  7 

'  On  some  fond  breast  the  parting  soul  relies ; 
Some  pious  drops  the  closing  eye  requires ; 
E'en  from  the  tomb  the  voice  of  Nature  cries; 
E'en  in  our  ashes  live  their  wonted  fires. 

"  It  is  in  vain  that  philosophy  has  informed  us,  that  the  whole 
earth  is  but  a  point  in  the  eyes  of  its  Creator,  nay,  of  his  own 


24  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

creation ;  that  wherever  we  are,  abroad  or  at  home,  on  the  rest- 
less ocean,  or  the  solid  land,  we  are  still  under  the  protection  of 
his  providence  and  safety,  as  it  were,  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand. 
It  is  in  vain  that  religion  has  instructed  us  that  we  are  but  dust, 
and  to  dust  we  shall  return ;  that  whether  our  remains  are  scat- 
tered to  the  corners  of  the  earth,  or  gathered  in  sacred  urns, 
there  is  a  sure  and  certain  hope  of  a  resurrection  of  the  body, 
and  a  life  everlasting.  These  truths,  sublime  and  glorious  as 
they  are,  leave  untouched  the  feelings  of  which  I  have  spoken, 
or  rather  they  impart  to  them  a  more  enduring  reality.  Dust  as 
we  are,  the  frail  tenements  which  enclose  our  spirits  but  for  a 
season,  are  dear,  are  inexpressibly  dear  to  us.  We  derive  solace, 
nay,  pleasure,  from  the  reflection,  that  when  the  hour  of  separa- 
tion comes,  these  earthly  remains  will  still  retain  the  tender  regard 
of  those  whom  we  leave  behind ;  that  the  spot  where  they  shall 
lie  will  be  remembered  with  a  fond  and  soothing  reverence ;  that 
our  children  will  visit  it  in  the  midst  of  their  sorrows ;  and  our 
kindred  in  remote  generations  feel  that  a  local  inspiration  hovers 
around  it. 

"  Let  him  speak  who  has  been  on  a  pilgrimage  of  health  to  a 
foreign  land.  Let  him  speak,  who  has  watched  at  the  couch  of 
a  dying  friend,  far  from  his  chosen  home.  Let  him  speak,  who 
has  committed  to  the  bosom  of  the  deep,  with  a  sudden,  startling 
plunge,  the  narrow  shroud  of  some  relative  or  companion.  Let 
such  speak,  and  they  will  tell  you,  that  there  is  nothing  which 
wrings  the  heart  of  the  dying,  aye,  and  of  the  surviving,  with 
sharper  agony  than  the  thought  that  they  are  to  sleep  their  last 
sleep  in  the  land  of  strangers,  or  in  the  unseen  depths  of  the  ocean. 

"  'Bury  me  not,  I  pray  thee,'  said  the  patriarch  Jacob,  'bury 
me  not  in  Egypt :  but  I  will  lie  with  my  fathers.  And  thou 
shalt  carry  me  out  of  Egypt ;  and  bury  me  in  their  burying- 
place.' — '  There  they  buried  Abraham,  and  Sarah,  his  wife ; 
there  they  buried  Isaac,  and  Rebecca,  his  wife;  and  there  I 
buried  Leah.' 

"  Such  are  the  natural  expressions  of  human  feeling,  as  they 
fall  from  the  lips  of  the  dying.  Such  are  the  reminiscences 
that  for  ever  crowd  on  the  confines  of  the  passes  to  the  grave 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  25 

We  seek  again  to  have  our  home  there,  with  our  friends,  and  to 
be  blesse-d  by  a  communion  with  them.  It  is  a  matter  of  instinct, 
not  of  reasoning.  It  is  a  spiritual  impulse,  which  supercedes 
belief,  and  disdains  question. 

"  But  it  is  not  chiefly  in  regard  to  the  feelings  belonging  to 
our  own  mortality,  however  sacred  and  natural,  that  we  should 
contemplate  the  establishment  of  repositories  of  this  sort.  There 
are  higher  moral  purposes,  and  more  affecting  considerations, 
which  belong  to  the  subject.  We  should  accustom  ourselves  tc 
view  them  rather  as  means  than  as  ends;  rather  as  influences  to 
govern  human  conduct,  and  to  moderate  human  suffering,  than 
as  cares  incident  to  a  selfish  foresight. 

"  It  is  to  the  living  mourner ;  to  the  parent,  weeping  over  his 
dear  dead  child ;  to  the  husband,  dwelling  in  his  own  solitary 
desolation;  to  the  widow,  whose  heart  is  broken  by  untimely 
sorrow ;  to  the  friend,  who  misses  at  every  turn  the  presence  of 
some  kindred  spirit;  it  is  to  these,  that  the  repositories  of  the 
dead  bring  home  thoughts  full  of  admonition,  of  instruction,  and 
slowly,  but  surely,  of  consolation  also.  They  admonish  us,  by 
their  very  silence,  of  our  own  frail  and  transitory  being,  They 
instruct  us  in  the  true  value  of  life,  and  in  its  noble  purposes,  its 
duties,  and  its  destination.  They  spread  around  us,  in  the  remi- 
niscences of  the  past,  sources  of  pleasing,  though  melancholy 
reflection. 

"We  dwell  with  pious  fondness  on  the  characters  and  virtues 
of  the  departed ;  and,  as  time  interposes  its  growing  distances 
between  us  and  them,  we  gather  up,  with  more  solicitude,  the 
broken  fragments  of  memory,  and  weave,  as  it  were,  jnto  our 
very  hearts,  the  threads  of  their  history.  As  we  sit  down  by 
their  graves,  we  seem  to  hear  the  tones  of  their  affection  whis- 
pering in  our  ears.  We  listen  to  the  voice  of  their  wisdom,, 
speaking  in  the  depths  of  our  souls.  We  shed  our  tears ;  but 
they  are  no  longer  the  burning  tears  of  agony.  They  relieve 
our  drooping  spirits,  and  come  no  longer  over  us  with  a  deathly 
faintness.  We  return  to  the  world,  and  we  feel  ourselves  purer, 
and  better,  and  wiser,  from  this  communion  with  the  dead. 

"I  have  spoken  but  of  feelings  and  associations  common  ta 

3 


26  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

all  ages,  and  all  generations  of  men;  to  the  rude  and  the 
polished — to  the  barbarian  and  the  civilized — to  the  bond  and 
the  free — to  the  inhabitant  of  the  dreary  forests  of  the  north, 
and  the  sultry  regions  of  the  south-^to  the  worshipper  of  the 
sun,  and  the  worshipper  of  idols — to  the  heathen,  dwelling  in 
the  darkness  of  his  cold  mythology,  and  to  the  Christian,  rejoicing 
m  the  light  of  the  true  God.  Every  where  we  trace  them  in  the 
characteristic  remains  of  the  most  distant  ages  and  nations,  and  as 
far  back  as  human  history  carries  its  traditionary  outlines.  They 
are  found  in  the  barrows,  and  cairns,  and  mounds  of  olden  times, 
reared  by  the  uninstructed  aflection  of  savage  tribes;  and,  every 
where,  the  spots  seem  to  have  been  selected  with  the  same  ten- 
der regard  to  the  living  and  the  dead;  that  the  magnificence  of 
nature  might  administer  comfort  to  human  sorroAV,  and  incite 
human  sympathy. 

"  The  aboriginal  Germans  buried  their  dead  in  groves  conse- 
crated by  their  priests.  The  Egyptians  gratified  their  pride  and 
soothed  their  grief,  by  interring  them  in  their  Elysian  fields,  or 
embalming  them  in  their  vast  catacombs,  or  inclosing  them  in 
their  stupendous  pyramids,  the  wonder  of  all  succeeding  ages. 
The  Hebrews  watched  with  religious  care  over  their  places  of 
burial.  They  selected  for  this  purpose  ornamented  gardens, 
and  deep  forests,  and  fertile  valleys,  and  lofty  mountains;  and 
they  still  designate  them  with  a  sad  emphasis,  as  the  '  house  of 
the  living-'  The  ancient  Asiatics  lined  the  approaches  to  their 
cities  with  sculptured  sarcophagi,  and  mausoleums,  and  other 
ornaments  embowered  in  shrubbery,  traces  of  which  may  be  seen 
among  their  magnificent  ruins.  The  Greeks  exhausted  the 
resources  of  their  exquisite  art  in  adorning  the  habitations  of  the 
dead.  They  discouraged  interments  within  the  limits  of  their 
cities ;  and  consigned  their  relics  to  the  shady  groves,  in  the 
neighborhood  of  murmuring  streams  and  mossy  fountains,  close 
by  the  favorite  resorts  of  those  who  were  engaged  in  the  study  of 
philosophy  and  nature,  and  called  them  with  the  elegant  express- 
iveness  of  their   own  beautiful   language,  Cemeteries,*   ot 

*  %ot/ur£f.j(?— literally,  places  of  sleep. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  27 

•places  of  repose.'  The  Romans,  faithful  to  the  example  of 
Greece,  erected  the  monuments  to  the  dead  in  the  suburbs  of  the 
eternal  city,  (as  they  proudly  denominated  it,)  on  the  sides  of 
their  spacious  roads,  in  the  midst  of  trees  and  ornamental  walks 
and  ever-varying  flowers.  The  Appian  way  was  crowded  with 
columns,  and  obelisks,  and  cenotaphs,  to  the  memory  of  her 
heroes  and  sages;  and  at  every  turn,  the  short  but  touching 
inscription  met  the  eye, — Siste,  Viator, — Pause,  Traveller — invi- 
ting at  once  to  sympathy  and  thoughtfulness.  Even  the  humblest 
Roman  could  read  on  the  humblest  grave-stone  the  kind  offer- 
ing, ' May  the  earth  lie  lightly  on  these  remains!'*  And  the 
Moslem  successors  of  the  emperors,  indifferent  as  they  may  be 
to  the  ordinary  exhibitions  of  the  fine  arts,  place  their  burying- 
grounds  in  rural  retreats,  and  embellish  them  with  studious  taste, 
as  a  religious  duty.  The  cypress  is  planted  at  the  head  and  foot 
of  every  grave,  and  waves  with  a  mournful  solemnity  over  it. 
These  devoted  grounds  possess  an  inviolable  sanctity.  The 
ravages  of  war  never  reach  them ;  and  victory  and  defeat  equally 
respect  the  limits  of  their  domain.  So  that  it  has  been  remarked 
with  equal  truth  and  beauty,  that  while  the  cities  of  the  living 
are  subject  to  all  the  desolations  and  vicissitudes  incident  to 
human  affairs,  the  cities  of  the  dead  enjoy  an  undisturbed  repose, 
without  even  the  shadow  of  change. 

"  But  I  will  not  dwell  upon  facts  of  this  nature.  They  de- 
monstrate, however,  the  truth  of  which  I  have  spoken.  They 
do  more ;  they  furnish  reflections  suitable  for  our  ovm  thoughts 
on  the  present  occasion. 

"  If  this  tender  regard  for  the  dead  be  so  absolutely  universal, 
and  so  deeply  founded  in  human  affection,  why  is  it  not  made  to 
exert  a  more  profound  influence  on  our  lives  ?  Why  do  we  not 
enlist  it  with  more  persuasive  energy  in  the  cause  of  human 
improvement  ?  Why  do  we  not  enlarge  it  as  a  source  of  religious 
consolation  ?  Why  do  we  not  make  it  a  more  efficient  instrument 
to  elevate  ambition,  to  stimulate  genius,  and  to  dignify  learning  ? 
Why  do  we  not  connect  it  indissolubly  Avith  associations  which 

•  "  Sit  libi  terra  levia." 


28  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

charm  us  in  nature  and  engross  us  in  art  ?  Why  do  we  not  dis- 
pel from  it  that  unlovely  gloom,  from  which  our  hearts  turn,  as 
from  a  darkness  that  ensnares,  and  a  horror  that  appals  our 
thoughts  ? 

"  To  many,  nay,  to  most  of  the  heathen,  the  burying-place  was 
the  end  of  all  things.  They  indulged  no  hope,  at  least,  no  solid 
hope,  of  any  future  intercourse,  or  re-union  with  their  friends. 
The  farewell  at  the  grave  was  a  long  and  everlasting  farewell. 
At  the  moment  when  they  breathed  it,  it  brought  to  their  hearts 
a  startling  sense  of  their  own  wretchedness.  Yet,  when  the 
first  tumults  of  anguish  were  passed,  they  visited  the  spot  and 
strewed  flowers,  and  garlands,  and  crowns,  around  it,  to  assuage 
their  grief,  and  nourish  their  piety.  They  delighted  to  make  it 
the  abode  of  the  varying  beauties  of  nature ;  to  give  it  attractions 
which  should  invite  the  busy  and  the  thoughtful ;  and  yet,  at  the 
same  time,  afford  ample  scope  for  the  secret  indulgence  of  sorrow. 

"Why  should  not  Christians  imitate  such  examples?  They 
have  far  nobler  motives  to  cultivate  moral  sentiments  and  sensi- 
bilities ;  to  make  cheerful  the  path-ways  to  the  grave ;  to  combine 
with  deep  meditations  on  human  mortality,  the  sublime  consola- 
tions of  religion.  We  know,  indeed,  as  they  did  of  old,  that 
'  man  goeth  to  his  long  home,  and  the  mourners  go  about  the 
streets.'  But  that  home  is  not  an  everlasting  home;  and  the 
mourners  may  not  weep  as  those  who  are  without  hope.  What 
is  the  grave  to  us  but  a  thin  barrier,  dividing  time  from  eter- 
nity, and  earth  from  heaven?  What  is  it  but  'the  appointed 
place  of  rendezvous,  where  all  the  travellers  on  life's  journey 
meet'  for  a  single  night  of  repose — 

'  Tis  but  a  night— a  long  and  moonless  night. 
We  make  the  grave  our  bed,  and  then  are  gone.' 

"  Know  we  not 

— '  The  time  draws  on 

When  not  a  single  spot  of  burial  earth, 
Whether  on  land,  or  m  the  spacious  sea, 
But  must  give  up  its  long  committed  dust 
Inviolate? 

*•  Why  then  should  we  darken  with  systematic  caution  all  the 


F£MAL£    BIOGRAPHY.  29 

avenues  to  these  repositories?  Why  should  we  deposit  the 
remains  of  our  friends  in  loathsome  vaults,  or  beneath  the  gloomy 
crypts  and  cells  of  our  churches,  where  the  human  foot  is  never 
heard,  save  when  the  sickly  taper  lights  some  new  guest  to  his 
appointed  apartment,  and  'lets  fall  a  supernumerary  horror'  on  the 
passing  procession?  Why  should  we  measure  out  a  narrow 
portion  of  earth  for  our  grave-yards  in  the  midst  of  our  cities, 
and  heap  the  dead  upon  each  other  with  a  cold,  calculating  par- 
simony, disturbing  their  ashes,  and  wounding  the  sensibilities 
of  the  living  ?  Why  should  we  expose  our  burying  grounds  to 
the  broad  glare  of  day,  to  the  unfeeling  gaze  of  the  idler,  to  the 
noisy  press  of  business,  to  the  discordant  shouts  of  merriment, 
or  to  the  baleful  visitations  of  the  dissolute?  Why  should  we 
bar  up  their  approaches  against  real  mourners,  whose  delicacy 
would  shrink  from  observation,  but  whose  tenderness  would  be 
soothed  by  secret  visits  to  the  grave,  and  holding  converse  there 
with  their  departed  joys  ?  Why  all  this  unnatural  restraint  upon 
our  sympathies  and  sorrows,  which  confines  the  visit  to  the  grave 
to  the  only  time  in  which  it  must  be  utterly  useless — when  the 
heart  is  bleeding  with  fresh  anguish,  and  is  too  weak  to  feel,  and 
too  desolate  to  desire  consolation? 

"  It  is  painful  to  reflect  that  the  cemeteries  in  our  cities,  crowd- 
ed on  all  sides  by  the  overhanging  habitations  of  the  li\nng,  are 
walled  in  only  to  preserve  them  from  violation.  And  that  in 
our  country  towns  they  are  left  in  a  sad,  neglected  state,  exposed 
to  every  sort  of  intrusion,  with  scarcely  a  tree  to  shelter  their 
barrenness,  or  a  shrub  to  spread  a  grateful  shade  over  the  new- 
made  hillock. 

"  These  things  were  not  always  so  among  Christians.  They 
are  not  worthy  of  us.  They  are  not  worthy  of  Christianity  in  our 
day.  There  is  much  in  these  things  that  casts  a  just  reproach 
upon  us  in  the  past.  There  is  much  that  demands  for  the  future 
a  more  spiritual  discharge  of  our  duties. 

"  Our  cemeteries,  rightly  selected,  and  properly  arranged,  may 
be  made  subservient  to  some  of  the  highest  purposes  of  religion 
and  human  duty.  They  may  preach  lessons  to  which  none  may 
refuse  to  listen,  and  which  all  that  live  must  hear.     Truths  may 


30  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

be  there  felt  and  taught  in  the  silence  of  our  own  meditations,  more 
persuasive  and  more  enduring  than  ever  flowed  from  human  lips. 
The  grave  hath  a  voice  of  eloquence,  nay  of  superhuman  elo- 
quence, which  speaks  at  once  to  the  thoughtlessness  of  the  rash, 
and  the  devotion  of  the  good;  which  addresses  all  times,  and  all 
ages,  and  all  sexes ;  which  tells  of  wisdom  to  the  wise,  and  of 
comfort  to  the  afflicted;  which  warns  us  of  our  follies  and  our  dan- 
gers; which  whispers  to  us  in  accents  of  peace,  and  alarms  us  in 
tones  of  terror ;  which  steals  with  a  healing  halm  into  the  stricken 
heart,  and  lifts  up  and  supports  the  broken  spirit  r  which  awakens 
a  new  enthusiasm  for  virtue,  and  disciplines  us  for  its  severer  tri- 
als and  duties  ;  which  calls  up  the  images  of  the  illustrious  dead, 
with  an  animating  presence,  for  our  example  and  glory  ;  and 
which  demands  of  us,  as  men,  as  patriots,  as  Christians,  as  immor- 
tals, that  the  powers  given  by  God  should  be  devoted  to  his  ser- 
vice, and  the  minds  created  by  his  love,  should  return  to  him  with 
larger  capacities  for  virtuous  enjoyment,  and  with  more  spiritual 
and  intellectual  brio-htness, 

"  It  should  not  be  for  the  poor  purpose  of  gratifying  our  Tanity 
or  pride,  that  we  should  erect  columns,  and  obelisks,  and  monu- 
ments to  the  dead,  but  that  we  may  read  thereon  much  of  our  own 
destiny  and  duty.  We  know  that  man  is  the  creature  of  associa- 
tions and  excitements.  Experience  may  instruct,  but  habit,  and 
appetite,  and  passion,  and  imagination,  will  exercise  a  strong  do- 
minion over  him.  These  are  the  Fates,  which  weave  the  thread 
of  his  character,  and  unravel  the  mysteries  of  his  conduct.  The 
truth  which  strikes  home,  must  not  only  have  the  approbation  of 
his  reason,  but  it  must  be  embodied  in  a  visible,  tangible,  prac- 
tical form.  It  must  be  felt  as  well  as  seen.  It  must  warm  as 
well  as  convince. 

"  It  was  a  saying  of  Themistocles,  that  the  trophies  of  Mil- 
t'iades  would  not  suffer  him  to  sleep.  The  feeling  thus  express- 
ed, has  a  deep  foundation  in  the  human  mind;  and,  as  it  is  well 
or  ill  directed,  it  will  cover  us  with  shame,  or  exalt  us  to  glory. 
The  deeds  of  the  great  attract  but  a  cold  and  listless  admiration, 
when  they  pass  in  historical  order  before  us  like  moving  sha- 
dows.    It  is  the  trophy  and  the  monument  which  invests  them 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  31 

with  a  substance  of  local  reality.  Who,  that  has  stood  by  the 
tomb  of  Washington,  on  the  quiet  Potomac,  has  not  felt  his  heart 
more  pure,  his  wishes  more  aspiring,  his  gratitude  more  warm, 
and  his  love  of  country  touched  by  a  holier  flame '?  Who,  that 
should  see  erected  in  shades  like  these,  even  a  cenotaph  to  the 
memory  of  a  man  like  Buckminster,  that  prodigy  of  early 
genius,  would  not  feel  that  there  is  an  excellence  over  which 
death  hath  no  power,  but  which  lives  on  through  all  time,  still 
freshening  with  the  lapse  of  ages. 

"  But  passing  from  those  who  by  their  talents  and  virtues 
have  shed  lustre  on  the  annals  of  mankind,  to  cases  of  more 
private  bereavement,  who  that  should  deposit,  in  shades  like 
these,  the  remains  of  a  beloved  friend,  would  not  feel  a  secret 
pleasure  in  the  thought,  that  the  simple  inscription  to  his  worth 
would  receive  the  passing  tribute  of  a  sigh  from  thousands  of 
kindred  hearts  ?  That  the  stranger  and  the  traveller  would  lin- 
ger on  the  spot  with  a  feeling  of  reverence  ?  That  they,  the  very 
mourners  themselves,  when  they  should  revisit  it,  would  find 
there  the  verdant  sod,  and  the  fragrant  flower,  and  the  breezy 
shade  ?  That  they  might  there,  unseen,  except  of  God,  offer  up 
their  prayers,  or  indulge  the  luxury  of  grief?  That  they  might 
there  realize,  in  its  full  force,  the  affecting  beatitude  of  the  scrip- 
tures ;  '  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn,  for  they  shall  be  comforted  V 

"Surely,  surely,  we  have  not  done  all  our  duty,  if  there  yet 
remains  a  single  incentive  to  human  virtue,  without  its  due  play 
in  the  action  of  life,  or  a  single  stream  of  happiness,  which 
has  not  been  made  to  flow  in  upon  the  waters  of  affliction." 

Miss  Adams  was  truly  a  remarkable  character ;  fortunate  in 
friends,  in  protracted  life,  and  in  monumental  honors.  Every 
thing  about  her,  but  her  ardor  for  knowledge,  was  subdued,  and 
under  perfect  control.  She  lived  at  a  time  when  she  was  ne- 
cessarily the  director  of  her  own  course  of  study ;  the  literature 
of  the  day,  as  far  as  American  literature  existed,  was  scattered, 
and  of  a  cast  to  do  her  no  particular  good.  The  pulpit  then  con- 
tained many  learned  men ;  but  their  exertions  were  mostly  confined 
to  their  flocks,  or  to  controversial  divinity;  and  among  them  there 
was  but  little  concert  for  the  advancement  of  literature  or  science. 


32  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

The  bar  then  boasted  of  many  vigorous  minds;  but,  excepting 
her  relative,  John  Adams,  but  few  had  written  to  enlighten  man- 
kind. There  was  a  good  share  of  talent  shown  in  the  disserta- 
tions of  the  great  political  questions,  Avhich  then  agitated  the 
colonies ;  but  this  could  not  interest  very  deeply  a  young  woman, 
as  she  was  then.  Most  lawyers  had  confined  themselves  to  the 
strict  duties  of  their  profession,  and  to  constitutional  questions  j 
and  physicians  had  ventured  but  a  few  steps  beyond  their  pre- 
scribed bounds.  A  few  literary  men  had  just  risen  above  the 
horizon.  Dwight,  Trumbull,  Green,  Mrs.  Warren,  and  some 
others,  had  written  some  popular  works,  but  still  there  w^as  no  lite- 
rary community;  she  had,  of  course  no  school  to  follow,  and  never 
thought  of  imitating  any  one,  in  the  republic  of  letters.  The 
English  classics,  which  she  read,  formed  her  style,  and  whoever 
has  passed  his  days  and  nights  upon  Milton,  Young,  Pope,  Addi- 
son, Thomson,  and  others  of  that  school,  has  seldom  made  a  bad 
writer.  Although  she  never  did,  yet  she  had  a  right  to  ascribe 
her  fortune  to  her  merits,  virtue,  and  mind ;  she  had  no  beauty 
or  sprightliness  to  set  off  her  acquirements.  Her  face  was  in- 
tellectual, and  her  head  well  formed,  but  her  person  could  never 
have  been  commanding.  That  one  of  no  graces  of  person,  or 
charm  of  manners,  should  have  inspired  so  much  respect  and 
deference,  could  only  be  accounted  for  by  the  fact,  that  she  lived 
among  those  w^ho  would,  and  did,  appreciate  talents,  acquirements, 
and  moral  worth.  Her  prudence  was  her  greatest  characteristic, 
and  she  was  so  entirely  under  the  control  of  this  often  neglected 
divinity,  that  it  is  doubtful  whether  she  ever  uttered  an  offensive 
sentence  in  her  life,  however  much  excited  by  plagiarists  or  rivals. 
In  her  religious  opinions  she  was  sincere  and  circumspect.  She 
gives  her  creed  in  her  autobiography,  a  most  modest  production, 
with  singular  felicity,  and  so  precisely  in  keeping  with  her  char- 
acter, that  we  cannot  refrain  from  making  the  extract. 

"  I  have  already  mentioned  the  perplexity  and  embarrassment 
of  my  mind,  while  writing  my  views  of  religion.  After  coming 
to  Boston  and  residing  in  that  city,  while  the  disputes  upon  uni- 
tarian sentiments  w^ere  warmly  agitated,  I  read  all  that  came  in 
my  way,  upon  both  sides  of  the  question,  and  carefully  examined 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  33 

the  New  Testament,  with,  I  think,  a  sincere  and  ardent  desire  to 

know  the  truth.  I  deeply  felt  the  difficulties  on  hoth  sides  of  the 

question,  yet  prevailingly  gave  the  preference  to  that  class  of 

unitarians  who   adopt  the  highest  ideas  of  the  greatness  and 

dignity  of  the  Son  of  God.    I  have  never  arrived  to  that  degree 

of  decision  Avhich  some  have  attained  on  this  subject.     In  this, 

and  every  other  disputable  subject,  1  would  adopt  the  following 

lines. 

'If  I  am  right,  thy  grace  impart, 

Still  in  the  right  to  stay. 
If  I  am  wrong,  O  teach  my  heart 
To  find  the  better  way.'  " 

The  future  traveller  as  he  pauses  to  mourn  over  the  remains 
of  Hannah  Adams,  the  first  inhabitant  of  Mount  Auburn,  the 
new  city  of  the  dead,  will  go  back  to  the  age  in  which  she 
flourished,  and  while  calling  to  mind  her  merits,  his  bosom  will 
thrill  with  gratitude  to  those  who  saw  and  cherished  them. 


Maria  Cajetana  Agnesi,  an  Italian  lady  of  great  learning, 
was  born  at  Milan,  March  16th,  1718.  Her  inclinations,  from  her 
earliest  youth,  led  her  to  the  study  of  science;  and  at  an  age 
when  young  persons  of  her  sex  attend  only  to  frivolous  pursuits, 
she  had  made  such  astonishing  progress  in  mathematics,  that 
when,  in  1750,  her  father,  professor  in  the  university  of  Bologna, 
was  unable  to  continue  his  lectures,  from  infirm  health,  she 
obtained  permission  from  the  pope,  Benedict  XIV.,  to  fill  his 
chair.  Before  this,  at  the  early  age  of  nineteen,  she  had  supported 
one  hundred  and  ninety-one  theses,  which  were  published,  in 
1738,  under  the  title  "  Propositiones  Philosophicae."  She  was 
mistress  of  Latin,  Greek,  Hebrew,  French,  German,  and  Spanish. 
At  length  she  gave  up  her  studies,  and  went  into  the  monastery 
of  the  Blue  Nuns,  at  Milan,  where  she  died,  January  9th,  1 799.  In 
1740,  she  published  a  discourse,  tending  to  prove,  "that  the  study 
of  the  liberal  arts  is  not  incompatable  with  the  understandings 
of  women."  This  was  written  when  she  was  very  young ;  she 
wrote  upon  mathematics  of  a  high  order ;  fluxions  and  analytics. 
The  commentators  of  Newton  were  acquainted  with  her  mathe- 


34  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

matical  works,  while  they  were  in  manuscript.  In  1801,  these 
works  were  published  in  two  volumes,  at  the  expense  of  Mr. 
Baron  Maseres,  to  do  honor  to  her  memory,  and  to  prove  that 
women  have  minds  capable  of  comprehending  the  most  abstruse 
studies.  Her  eulogy  was  pronounced  by  Frisi,  and  translated  into 
French  by  Boulard.  It  should  be  translated  into  English ;  there 
are  now  many  young  ladies  in  our  schools,  capable  of  the  task. 


Harriet  Acland,  wife  of  Major  Acland,  an  officer  in  Bur- 
goyne's  army,  is  a  name  familiar  to  the  ear  of  American  readers. 
Lady  Harriet  accompanied  her  husband  in  the  disastrous  cam- 
paign of  1777,  from  Canada  to  Saratoga.  In  the  battle  of  Still- 
water, October  7th,  1777,  her  husband  commanded  the  grenadiers 
of  the  British  army,  and  bravely  sustained  the  attack  upon  his 
forces,  until  he  was  overpowered  by  numbers ;  his  corps  retreated, 
and  left  him  wounded  on  the  field,  he  having  been  shot  through 
the  legs.  While  in  this  situation,  he  was  saved  from  an  American 
soldier,  who  had  marked  him  for  plunder,  by  General,  then 
Major,  Wilkinson,  who  had  the  gallant  officer  removed  to  a 
place  of  safety,  and  medical  care.  His  noble  wife,  hearing  that 
he  was  wounded,  sought  the  American  camp  in  an  open  boat, 
attended  only  by  the  chaplain  of  her  husband's  regiment,  and 
the  oarsmen  of  the  boat.  She  came  with  a  letter  from  General 
Burgoyne,  stating  her  character,  and  her  wishes.  This  letter 
from  the  commander  of  the  British  forces,  considering  the  time 
and  circumstances  in  which  it  was  written,  has  been  considered 
a  most  elegant  composition.  She  was  with  her  husband  at 
Cambridge,  when  the  troops  were  quartered  in  that  place,  under 
the  convention  of  surrender,  made  between  the  two  forces  at 
Saratoga.  Lady  Harriet  was  much  admired  for  the  ease  and 
elegance  of  her  manners,  and  assisted  to  settle  many  little  dif- 
ferences, which  arose  between  the  conquerors  and  the  captives, 
springing,  probably,  from  the  irritation  of  those  who  were 
mortified  at  their  situation. 

She  returned  to  England  with  her  husband,  where  new  evils 
awaited  her.  The  officers  in  England,  who  had  never  fought  in 
America,  had  the  same  opinion  of  the  want  of  courage  and 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  35 

ability  in  the  colonial  forces,  as  Burgoyne  had  before  he  had 
tested  their  prowess.  The  brave  officers  who  had  the  misfor 
tune  to  be  taken  with  this  army,  were  often  annoyed  by  indirect 
aspersion  upon  themselves,  in  the  form  of  attacks  upon  the  bra- 
very of  American  troops.  It  was  felt  and  resented  by  every  one 
of  that  army,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest.  A  lieutenant 
Lloyd,  at  some  convivial  party,  rung  the  changes  upon  American 
cowardice,  which  Major  Acland,  both  in  justice  to  the  corps  he 
had  commanded  at  Stillwater,  and  to  the  brave  foe  he  encoun- 
tered, gave  the  lieutenant  the  lie  direct.  A  duel  was  the  conse- 
quence ;  and  Major  Acland  fell  at  the  first  fire  of  his  antagonist, 
deeply  lamented  at  home  and  abroad.  On  the  reception  of  this 
sad  news,  lady  Harriet  lost  her  senses,  and  life  became  a  blank 
to  her  for  two  years  or  more ;  when,  by  reason  of  the  strength 
of  her  constitution,  she  recovered,  and  was  again  restored  to 
society.  The  good  man,  who  had  accompanied  her  when  she 
sought  her  wounded  husband  on  the  night  of  the  seventh  of  Octo- 
ber 1777,  never  deserted  her  in  this  great  misfortune;  and  on 
her  recovery  she  left  the  gay  world,  and  in  gratitude,  gave  her 
hand  to  Mr.  Brudenell,  a  very  worthy  clergyman.  Lady  Har- 
riet outlived  her  second  husband  for  many  years,  and  died  not 
long  since,  in  a  good  old  age.  The  anecdotes  of  that  campaign 
would  fill  many  volumes.  The  baroness  of  Reidesel  has  pub- 
lished a  graphic  account  of  the  battle.  Her  husband  com- 
manded the  German  troops  under  Burgoyne.  The  foreign 
troops  had  been  led  to  think  that  the  American  war  would  be 
only  a  pastime ;  and  when  it  was  over,  and  that  would  be  speed- 
ily, the  lands  and  other  property  of  their  foes,  would  be  shared 
among  them  for  their  valqr.  They  were  taught  a  sad  lesson  by 
experience. 


Phebe  H.  Abbot,  wife  of  Captain  Henry  Abbot,  of  Andover, 
in  Massachusetts,  was  born  in  that  place  in  1746.  Her  maiden 
name  was  Abbot.  Those  of  the  name  were  descendants  of  the 
first  settlers  of  the  town.  She  was  much  younger  than  her  hus- 
band, who  died  in  1805,  in  the  eighty  sixth  year  of  his  age.  He 
was  a  wealthy  yeoman,  and  a  fine  specimen  of  New  England 


36  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

commonwealths-men  in  her  former  days.  He  did  many  things 
because  his  father  had  done  them;  and  he  did  many  others, 
because  he  thought  them  among  his  duties,  as  a  freeman, 
inheriting  the  property  of  a  freeman.  He  commanded  a  militia 
company,  and  marched  with  spirit  and  alacrity,  when  he  heard 
that  the  Indians  had  invaded  the  frontiers,  to  chastise  their 
insolence ;  and  during  the  revolutionary  war,  he  was  ready  to 
take  his  part  in  the  deliverence  of  his  country.  He  paid  his 
taxes  cheerfully,  when  his  property  was  assessed ;  and  he  turned 
all  he  had  to  the  best  account  for  himself  and  his  country.  He, 
like  others,  lost  the  earnings  of  many  hard  days  labor,  by  the 
depreciation  of  continental  money,  a  stain  on  the  name  of  our 
country's  justice;  but  after  the  peace,  his  industry  soon  made 
him  forget  his  losses.  Mrs.  Abbot  managed  her  household 
affairs  with  great  exactness  and  economy,  but  still  with  liberality. 
Her  table  was  bountiful,  without  any  parade.  Not  a  crumb  was 
lost,  not  an  ingredient  misapplied.  Her  eye  was  upon  every 
thing ;  every  measure  of  meal  was  weighed,  every  flask  of  oil 
was  measured,  and  her  calculations  never  failed.  She  had  not 
a  large  family  of  her  own,  only  two  sons  and  one  daughter ; 
and  the  eldest  son  was  not  much  at  home,  having  been  educated 
at  Harvard  University:  but  their  large  farm  and  mansion  house 
was  fitted  for  boarders,  and  when  Phillips  founded  his  academy 
in  that  town,  he  stipulated  with  the  best  families  of  the  parish, 
that  each  should  receive  students  as  boarders,  according  to  the 
accommodations  they  possessed.  Captain  Abbot  had  the  means 
of  accommodating  a  half  dozen,  or  more,  without  any  incon- 
venience, and  he  paid  a  most  religious  regard  to  his  engage- 
ment. In  this  family,  students  were  provided  with  good  and 
wholesome  food,  spacious  rooms,  and  plenty  of  fuel ;  and  they 
were  taken  care  of  as  children.  No  fond  mother  could  be  more 
attentive  to  the  health,  morals,  and  habits  of  her  ofl^spring,  than 
Mrs.  Abbot  was  to  those  under  her  care.  It  was  considered  a 
fortunate  affair  to  get  into  her  family.  She  was  exact,  but  not 
rigid ;  economical,  but  liberal.  The  household  affairs  were  all 
managed  without  bustle,  that  no  boy  might  plead  an  excuse  that 
he  was  interrupted  in  his  studies  by  the  noise  of  the  spinning 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  37 

wheel,  or  the  churn.  Of  those  who  were  under  her  care,  and 
there  were  many  in  the  course  of  the  long  period  she  was  able  to 
look  after  her  family,  no  one  ever  complained  of  ill  treatment  or 
neglect.  All  were  satisfied.  She  and  her  husband  were  mem- 
bers of  the  congregational  church  in  the  place,  and  were  as 
regular  as  the  holy  sabbath  came,  at  divine  service ;  and  every 
boy  was  required  to  be  in  readiness  to  attend  her  to  the  place  of 
worship;  and  there  the  slightest  misconduct  or  neglect  was 
noticed  and  reproved.  Times  passed  on,  and  seasons  changed ; 
but,  nothing  but  death  made  changes  in  her  arrangements.  As 
one  boy  went  ofi'to  college,  another  took  his  place,  and  was  soon 
acquainted  with  her  discipline ;  and  if  he  felt  it  a  little  too  strict 
at  first,  he  soon  found  comfort  and  happiness  in  it.  Mrs.  Abbot 
was  a  woman  of  a  strong  mind,  which  was  most  admirably 
disciplined,  of  excellent  principles,  of  great  equanimity  of  tem- 
per, and  of  fine  health  ;  always  at,  or  near  home,  ready  for  every 
care  which  her  family  demanded.  She  took  a  deep  interest  in 
all  her  friends  and  acquaintances,  and  spared  no  pains  to  oblige 
them.  She  had  no  meanness,  or  selfishness  in  her  nature,  but 
w^as  just  and  generous  to  all.  Such  a  woman  was  a  good  guide 
to  youth;  and  she  read  their  characters  at  a  glance.  She  excited 
her  boys  to  study,  and  felt  as  delighted  as  a  mother,  when  they 
wore  testimonials  of  improvement.  On  such  occasions  some  little 
nicety  was  provided  for  them,  to  show  that  she  had  an  interest 
in  their  reputation. 

She  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  her  only  daughter,  Avhen  full 
grown,  and  just  entering  into  life  with  fair  prospects ;  but  even 
this  calamity  did  not  disturb  her  composure.  "  The  Lord  gave, 
the  Lord  hath  taken  away ;  blessed  be  his  name,^^  was  all  that 
escaped  her  lips  under  this  bereavement.  Nature  had  done 
much  towards  making  her  a  woman  of  fortitude,  but  religious 
discipline  had  done  more.  She  lived  until  the  summer  of  1833, 
and  then  died  of  old  age.  For  a  few  years  before  her  death, 
she  hp'^  been  afflicted  with  blindness,  but  this  did  not  change 
her  temper.  She  said  that  the  great  disposer  of  events  had 
done  all  this  to  detach  her  from  the  world,  and  to  teach  her  to 
contemplate   the   great   change   about  to   take  place.     It   was 

4 


38  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

delightful  to  her  in  later  times,  to  talk  of  those  who  had  lived 
with  her,  in  past  days;  they  were  all  remembered  under  the 
denomination  of  children.  She  was  discriminating  and  just  in 
marking  their  characteristics,  and,  indeed,  was  seldom  out  in  her 
calculations.  Her  predictions  among  the  boys,  if  unfavorable, 
were  dreaded  as  bad  omens;  and  her  affectionate  expressions 
cheered  the  poor  fellow  Avho  v/as  delving  upon  his  Greek  les- 
son. If  it  gave  permanent  glory  in  Rome  to  have  educated  two 
bright  boys,  what  honors  belong  to  her,  who  had,  during  her 
pilgrimage,  more  than  two  hundred  under  her  maternal  care, 
and  all  of  them  having  cause  for  blessing  her  name.  It  requires 
wisdom  to  direct  minds,  and  it  is  a  proof  of  virtue  to  have  edu- 
cated others  to  good  habits.  If  the  mothers  of  our  country 
cannot  boast  of  the  glories  of  fashion,  or  their  taste  in  the  arts, 
it  must  be  acknowledged,  that  those  virtues,  which  give  strength 
to  principle,  and  security  to  society,  were  eminently  theirs.  It  is 
not  in  the  higher  regions  of  life,  that  its  value  can  be  truly 
ascertained.  The  elevated  must  act  for  others,  as  well  as  them- 
selves; those  depressed  below  the  ordinary  level  of  existence, 
have  seldom  sufficient  fortitude  to  see  all  the  bearings  of  human 
duties.  It  is  in  the  more  common  walks  of  society  that  the  true 
nature  of  man  is  best  ascertained ;  those  who  have  neither 
poverty  or  riches,  have  but  few  temptations. 

The  latter  days  of  Mrs.  Abbot  were  not  so  prosperous  as 
those  which  had  preceded  them ;  for  her  children  were  not  very 
fortunate  in  life;  but  she  found  consolation  in  those  principles 
she  had  from  youth  professed,  and  they  bore  her  on  triumphantly, 
until  she  bade  adieu  to  all  things  of  time  and  sense. 


Isabella  Andreini,  was  born  at  Padua,  m  1653.  She 
became  an  actress  of  great  fame,  and  was  flattered  by  the  ap- 
plauses of  men  of  wit  and  learning  of  her  time.  The  Italian 
theatre  was  considered,  in  that  day,  a  literary  institution.  She 
is  described  as  a  woman  of  elegant  figure,  beautiful  couii^  "nance, 
and  melodious  voice ;  of  taste  in  her  profession,  and  conversant 
with  the  French  and  Spanish  languages;  nor  was  she  unac- 
quainted with  philosophy  and  the  sciences.     She  was  a  votary 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  39 

of  the  muses,  and  cultivated  poetry  with  ardor  and  success. 
The  Intenti  academicians  of  Pavia,  conferred  upon  her  the 
honors  of  their  society,  and  the  title  of  Isabella  Andreini,  Co- 
mica  Gelosa,  Academica  Intenta,  detta  I'Accesa.  She  dedicated 
her  works  to  Cardinal  Aldobrandini,  (nephew  to  Pope  Clement 
VIII.)  by  whom  she  was  greatly  esteemed,  and  for  whom  many 
of  her  poems  were  composed.  In  France,  whither  she  made  a 
tour,  she  met  with  a  most  flattering  reception  from  the  king,  the 
queen,  and  the  court.  She  died  in  1604,  at  Lyons,  in  the  forty- 
second  year  of  her  age.  Her  husband  was  overwhelmed  with 
affliction  at  her  loss,  and  erected  a  monument  to  her  memory,  in 
the  city  in  which  she  expired,  inscribed  with  an  epitaph  com- 
memorative of  her  virtues.  The  learned  strove  to  outdo  each 
other  in  pronouncing  panegyrics  on  her  character.  Even  a 
medal  was  struck,  with  this  inscription,  "  Sterna  Fama."  Her 
works  are  numerous,  and  still  much  admired  by  the  lovers  of 
Italian  literature ;  they  are  readily  found  in  print.  She  left  a 
son,  born  in  1578,  who  was  also  a  poet;  he  wrote,  among  other 
things,  "  Adamo,"  a  sacred  drama,  in  five  acts,  with  chorusses, 
&c.,  Milan,  1613,  and  1617,  with  prints,  designed  by  Carlo 
Antonio  Proccachini,  a  celebrated  landscape  painter  of  his  time, 
and  of  the  school  of  the  Carracci ;  but  in  a  wretched  style,  para- 
dise being  represented  as  full  of  dipt  hedges,  square  parterres, 
straight  walks,  &c.  But  what  is  more  interesting,  Voltaire,  in 
his  visit  to  England,  in  1727,  suggested  that  Mihon  took  his  hint 
cf  his  Paradise  Lost  from  this  drama.  This  obtained  little  credit 
at  the  time,  and  was  contemptuously  rejected  by  Dr.  Johnson,  in 
his  life  of  Milton.  Mr.  Hayley,  however,  has  revived  the 
question,  and  with  considerable  advantage  to  Voltaire's  supposi- 
tion ;  and  it  seems  now  to  be  the  opinion,  that  the  coincidence 
between  Andreini' s  plan,  and  Milton's,  is  too  great  to  be  the 
effect  of  chance.  But  no  matter  from  whence  the  mighty  bard 
drew  his  hint,  from  the  sparks  he  may  have  taken  from  another 
author,  he  set  the  Empyrean  in  a  blaze. 


Joan  lyARC  was  born  of  humble  parentage,  in  the  village  of 
Domsemi,  near  Tancouleurs,  on  the  borders  of  Lorraine,  in 


40  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

1402.  The  instructions  she  received  during  her  childhood  and 
youth,  were  suited  to  her  humble  condition.  She  left  her  parents 
at  an  early  age,  to  relieve  them  from  the  burden  of  her  subsist- 
ence, and  engaged  herself  as  a  servant  at  a  small  inn.  Here 
she  employed  herself  in  attending  the  horses  of  her  guests,  and 
riding  them  without  a  saddle  to  the  watering  place ;  and  in  per- 
forming other  duties,  which  at  larger  inns  are  the  duties  of  men. 
By  these  exercises  she  acquired  an  active  spirit,  and  a  robust, 
and  hardy  frame.  Without  displaying,  in  such  an  exposed  situ- 
ation, any  superiority  of  talent  or  character,  she  preserved  her 
manners  and  conduct  free  from  reproach. 

The  critical  and  interesting  situation  of  France  at  that  time, 
became  a  frequent  subject  of  conversation,  even  with  people  of 
the  lowest  rank.  Joan  had  been  taught  to  hold  in  detestation 
the  English  name,  and  the  ravages  of  war,  extending  even  to  her 
father's  cottage,  increased  this  abhorrence.  She  eagerly  listening 
to  the  daily  and  varying  tale,  became  interested  in  political  affairs, 
and  caught  the  spirit  of  the  times  The  rnisfortunes  of  the 
dauphin,  his  gentle  and  amiable  character,  and  the  perils  which 
threatened  him,  awakened  in  her  heart  a  sentiment  of  loyal  and 
generous  attachment.  She  meditated  on  the  means  of  his  de- 
liverance, and  on  the  calamities  of  her  bleeding  country,  till  her 
imagination  became  inflamed,  the  delusions  of  which  she  mis- 
took for  an  impulse  from  heaven.  Excited  by  these  ideas,  she 
repaired  to  Vaucouleurs,  had  an  interview  with  Baudricourt, 
the  governor,  to  whom  she  imparted  her  mission,  and  conjured 
him  not  to  neglect  the  voice  of  God,  of  which  she  was  the  organ ; 
but  to  second  her  heavenly  revelations.  The  governor  was  not 
disposed  to  hear  her  at  first,  but  she,  not  daunted,  renewed  her 
solicitations.  She  waited  upon  him  daily,  and  at  each  successive 
visit,  her  importunity  was  increased.  He,  at  length,  adopted  the 
scheme  of  Joan;  gave  her  some  attendants,  and  accompanied 
her  to  the  French  court,  then  residing  at  Chinon. 

Not  the  marvelous  alone,  but  the  miraculous  also,  is  attached 
to  the  history  of  this  extraordinary  woman.  It  is  pretended, 
that  Joan,  immediately  on  her  admission,  knew  the  king,  though 
she  had  never  seen  him  before,  and  though  he  purposely  kept 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  41 

himself  in  the  crowd  of  courtiers,  and  had  laid  aside  every  thing 
in  his  dress,  which  might  distinguish  him :  that  she  offered  him, 
in  the  name  of  the  supreme  creator,  to  raise  the  siege  of  Orleans, 
and  conduct  him  to  Rheims,  there  to  be  crowned ;  and  on  his 
expressing  some  doubts  of  her  mission,  revealed  to  him  a  secret, 
which  was  unknown  to  every  person  except  himself,  and  which 
nothing  but  a  heavenly  inspiration  could  have  discovered  to  her; 
and  that  she  demanded  as  the  instrument  of  her  future  victories, 
a  particular  sword,  kept  in  the  church  of  St.  Catharine,  of  Fier- 
bois,  and  which,  though  she  had  never  seen  it,  she  described,  by 
all  its  marks,  and  by  the  place  where  it  had  long  lain  neglected. 

An  assembly  of  grave  divines  examined  Joan's  mission,  and 
pronounced  it  to  be  undoubted ;  and  the  parliament,  collected  at 
Poicters,  confirmed  the  decisions  of  the  theolosfians,  Joan  was 
dressed  in  a  complete  suit  of  armor,  mounted  on  a  prancing 
charger,  and  shown  to  the  admiring  people.  Her  fine  person; 
the  comeliness  of  her  countenance,  and  the  grace  with  which 
she  managed  her  steed,  completed  the  popular  delusion  :  the  air 
was  rent  by  the  shouts  and  acclamations  of  the  spectators.  Her 
former  occupation  was,  by  her  admirers,  softened  into  that  of  a 
shepherdess;  from  her  age,  which  was  seven  and  twenty,  ten 
years  were  subtracted;  chivalry,  religion,  and  sentiment,  were 
the  powerful  auxiliaries  that  united  on  this  occasion,  to  captivate 
the  fancy,  and  to  inflame  the  hearts  of  the  multitude. 

It  "was  uijw  determined  to  try  her  force  against  the  enemy. 
She  was  sent  to  Blois,  were  a  large  convoy  was  preparing  for 
the  supply  of  Orleans ;  and  an  army  of  ten  thousand  men  had 
assembled^  as  an  escort.  Before  marching,  she  ordered  all  the 
soldiers  to  confess  their  sins,  a  fid  banished  from  the  camp  all 
women  of  ill  fame.  Joan  covered  with  her  troops  the  embarka- 
tion. Suffolk,  the  English  commander,  did  not  venture  to  attack 
her ;  and  the  French  general  reconducted  the  escorting  army  in 
safety  to  Blois. 

Under  Joan's  sacred  influence,  the  garrison  now  believed 
themselves  invincible.  The  next  convoy  passed  without  any 
obstruction,  and  silence  and  astonishment  prevailed  among  the 
English  troops.     Joan,  seizing  the  moment  of  ardor,  exhorted 

4* 


42  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

the  garrison  to  make  a  sally  on  the  enemy :  the  generals  second- 
ed her  spirit,  and  gallantry:  the  troops,  assured  of  the  assist- 
ance of  heaven,  poured  impetuously  on  the  dispirited  English ; 
their  ranks  were  mowed  down,  their  redoubts  forced,  and  those 
Avhom  the  sword  spared  were  carried  into  captivity. 

On  one  occasion  the  French  gave  way,  and  Joan  was  left 
nearly  alone.  Compelled  at  length  to  join  the  deserters,  she 
displayed  on  high  the  sacred  banner;  while  with  her  voice,  her 
countenance,  and  her  gestures,  she  animated  her  recreant  fol- 
low^ers,  led  them  back  to  the  charge,  turned  the  fortune  of  the 
field,  and  overpow^ered  the  enemy.  When  wounded,  on  another 
occasion  in  the  neck,  by  an  arrow,  she  retired  for  a  moment,  and 
exclaimed,  as  with  her  own  hand  she  extracted  the  weapon,  "  It 
is  glory,  and  not  blood,  which  flows  from  this  wound."  The 
wound  having  been  quickly  dressed,  she  returned  to  head  the 
assailants,  and  to  plant  her  victorious  standard  on  the  enemy's 
ramparts.  At  an  attack  on  Jergeau,  she  descended  into  the 
fosse,  where  she  was  beaten  to  the  ground,  by  a  blow  on  her 
head  from  a  stone,  but  quickly  recovering  herself,  the  assault 
was  carried,  and  Suffolk  made  prisoner. 

Joan  had  now  accomplished  one  part  of  her  mission,  in  raising 
the  siege  of  Orleans ;  the  crowning  of  Charles  at  Rheims  only 
remained  to  be  effected,  on  which  she  now"  insisted.  Charles, 
accompanied  by  the  victorious  female,  at  the  head  of  twelve 
thousand  men,  set  out  for  Rheims;  every  towTi  opened  its  gates 
to  him  as  he  passed.  The  ceremony  of  his  coronation  was  then 
performed ;  Joan  stood  by  his  side,  in  complete  armor,  displaying 
her  sacred  banner,  and  the  people  shouted  with  tumultuous  joy. 

The  English,  supported  by  the  duke  of  Burgundy,  laid  seige 
to  the  town  of  Compeigne,  into  which  Joan  threw  herself  The 
garrison,  who  with  her  assistance  believed  themselves  invinci- 
ble, received  her  with  transports  of  joy.  Here,  however,  her 
good  fortune  forsook  her,  and  after  performing  prodigies  of 
valor,  and  losing  her  horse  under  her,  she  was  compelled  to 
surrender  to  the  enemy.  The  Burgundians,  into  w^hose  hands 
she  had  fallen,  sold  her  to  the  English,  for  ten  thousand  livres. 
It  is  believed  the  French  officers,  jealous  of  the  glory  of  the 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  43 

maid,  had  designedly  exposed  her  to  this  fatal  catastrophe. 
Such  is  human  gratitude,  and  the  fate  of  merit ;  and  such  the 
recompense  awarded  to  the  benefactors  of  their  species.  She 
was  tried  for  sorcery  and  magic,  and  sentenced  to  perpetual 
imprisonment ;  and  to  he  fed,  during  life,  on  bread  and  water. 
The  trial  was  a  mockery  on  justice. 

Both  the  French  and  English  might  now  have  been  convinced, 
that  the  opinion  of  divine  influence,  which  had  so  much  encour- 
aged the  one  and  depressed  the  other,  was  without  foundation. 
But  the  barbarous  vengeance  of  Joan's  enemies,  was  not  yet 
satisfied.  Near  four  months  she  Avas  continually  harassed  by 
questions,  and  persecutions,  the  most  ridiculous  and  absurd;  she 
Avas  asked,  whether  at  the  coronation  of  Charles,  she  had  not 
displayed  a  standard,  consecrated  by  magical  incantation.  "  Her 
trust,"  she  replied,  "  was  in  the  image  of  the  Almighty  impress- 
ed on  the  banner ;  and  that  she,  Avho  had  shared  the  danger  of 
the  field,  was  entitled  to  partake  of  the  glory  at  Rheims.  During 
these  examinations  she  betrayed  no  weakness,  nor  gave  to  her 
persecutors  any  advantage ;  she  disgraced  not  the  heroism  she 
had  displayed  in  the  field.  At  length,  she  was  excommunicated, 
and  all  pardon,  all  mercy  refused  to  her.  Crowned  with  a  paper, 
on  which  were  inscribed  the  terms,  "  apostate,  heretic,  and  idola- 
tress," and  guarded  by  soldiers,  she  was  delivered  over  to  the 
stake,  which  had  been  erected  for  the  purpose  in  the  market- 
place of  Rouen. 

On  the  right  hand  of  the  scaffold,  on  which  she  was  exposed 
to  the  sav^age  fury  of  the  people,  were  stationed  the  clergy,  and 
on  the  left  the  secular  officers.  In  this  situation  she  w^as,  w^ith 
solemn  mockery,  interrogated  on  the  principles  of  her  faith ; 
principles,  which  appeared  to  differ  in  no  respect,  fr-om  those  of 
her  merciless  persecutors.  She  was  at  the  conclusion  informed, 
'  that  the  meek  and  merciful  ministers  of  the  gospel  had,  for  the 
execution  of  their  sentence,  handed  her  over  to  the  secular 
powers." — Dieu  soit  bene!  "Blessed  be  God!"  exclaimed  the 
sufferer,  as  she  placed  herself  on  the  pile.  Her  body  w^as  quickly 
consumed,  and  her  ashes  scattered  to  the  winds.  Thus  perished 
this  heroic  woman,  June  14th,  1431;  to  whom,  (it  is  justly  ob- 


44  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHV. 

served  by  Mr.  Hume,)  "the  more  liberal  and  generous  supersti- 
tions of  the  ancients  would  have  erected  altars." 

In  1454,  a  revision  of  the  sentence  of  Joan  was  demanded  by 
her  mother  ;  and  the  memory  of  Joan  was  fully  cleared  of  every 
imputation  which  could  tend  to  its  dishonor,  by  the  bishop  of 
Paris,  under  a  commission  by  pope  Nicolas  Y,  Monuments 
were  erected  to  her  honor,  in  Orleans,  at  Rouen,  and  various 
parts  of  France.  Some  years  after  her  decease,  Joan  was,  by  a 
bull  of  pope  Calixtus  III.,  declared  a  martyr  to  her  religion,  her 
country,  and  her  king. 


Jane  Austen,  a  highly  gifted  and  sensible  novelist,  was  born 
on  the  sixteenth  of  December,  1775,  at  Steventon,  in  the  county  of 
Hantz,  Eng.,  for  which  parish,  her  father  was  rector  for  upwards 
of  forty  years.  At  the  age  of  seventy,  he  resided  with  his  family 
at  Bath,  and  upon  his  death,  his  widow  and  two  daughters 
retired  to  Southampton,  and  ultimately,  in,  1807,  to  Chawton, 
in  the  same  county.  It  was  during  her  residence  in  the  last 
mentioned  place,  that  Miss  Austen  composed  the  novels,  which 
for  ease,  nature,  and  a  complete  knowledge  of  the  features  which 
distinguish  the  domesticity  of  the  English  country  gentry,  are 
very  highl}^  estimated.  The  principal  of  these  productions,  are, 
"Sense  and  Sensibility,''  "Pride  and  Prejudice,"  "Mansfield 
Park,"  and  "  Emma."  Two  more,  published  after  her  death, 
entitled,  "  Northenger  Abbey,"  and  "  Persuasion,"  which  were 
however,  her  most  early  attempts.  The  praise-worthy  object  of 
Miss  Austen,  in  all  her  works  was  to  advocate  the  superiority  of 
sound  principles,  unsophisticated  manners,  and  undesigning  rec- 
titude, to  more  splendid  and  artificial  pretensions ;  and  within 
the  sphere  of  her  delineation  she  eminently  succeeded.  At  the 
same  time  her  discrimination  was  acute,  her  humor  easy,  and 
spontaneous,  and  her  power  of  creating  an  interest  in  her  cha- 
racter, by  slight  and  reiterated  touches,  extraordinary.  This 
amiable  and  accomplished  lady,  whose  personal  and  mental  at- 
tractions were  otherwise  of  a  high  order,  died  of  a  decline,  on 
the  eighteenth  of  July,  1817,  in  her  forty-second  year ;  and  her 
virtues  are  held  in  sweat  remembrance. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  45 

Joan    D' Albert,  queen  of    Navarre,    daughter  of   Heory 
D' Albert  and  Margaret  of  Valois,  was  born  in  1528.   At  eleven 
years  of  age,  she  was  married,  contrary  to  her  own  inclinations 
and  those  of  her  parents,  to  the  duke  of  Cleves,  by  the  authority 
of  Francis  I.,  but  the  marriage  was  afterwards  declared  null. 
In  1548,  she  married  Anthony  of  Bourbon,  duke  of  Vendome. 
She  was  the  mother  of  Henry  IV.  of  France.     On  the  death 
of  her  father,  in  1555,  she  became  queen  of  Navarre,  and  her 
husband  took   the  title  of  king.     They  favored  the  reformed 
religion,  and  would  probably  have  openly  professed  it,  had  they 
not  feared  the  resentment  of  the  French  king,  Henry  II.    After 
his  death  they  declared  their  conversion  to  Calvinism,  which  re- 
ligion Joan  afterwards  zealously  protected.     Anthony,  on  the 
other  hand,  a  weak  and  fickle  man,  renounced  his  new  faith, 
and  commanded  against  the  protestants  in  the  civil  war,  in  which 
he  was  killed  at  the  siege  of  Rouen,  in  1562.     Joan,  who  was 
ill  treated  by  him  after  his  change,  left  the  court  of  France,  and 
returned  to  Beam.     She  not  only  established  the  protestant  re- 
ligion in  her  states,  but  abolished  popery,  and  seized  the  ecclesi- 
astical property,  which  she  applied  to  the  maintenance  of  the 
reformed  clergy,  and  the  schools.     Her  catholic  subjects  several 
times  revolted,  and  a  plot  was  formed  to  deliver  her  and  her 
children  into  the  hands  of  the  king  of  Spain ;  but  she  defeated 
all  their  conspiracies,  and  maintained  her  royal  authority.     In 
1568,  she  quitted  her  states  to  join  the  chiefs  of  the  French  pro- 
testants :  and  at  Cognac  had  an  interview  with  the  prince  of 
Conde,  to  whom  she  presented  her  son,  then  fifteen  years  old, 
with  her  jewels,  as  devoted  to  the  service  of  the  cause.     She 
withdrew  to   Rochelle,  whence   she  wrote  a  pathetic   letter  to 
Elizabeth,  queen  of  England,  describing  the  calamities  and  op- 
pressions which  had  induced  the  protestants  to  lake  up  arms. 
During  her  absence,  the  catholics  of  Beam  again  revolted,  but 
were  put  down  by  her  general,  the  count  of  Montgomery.    Her 
prudence  was  lulled  by  the  flattering  proposal  of  Charles  IX.,  to 
marry  his  sister  to  her  son ;  and  she  came  to  Paris  to  prepare  for 
the  nuptials.  In  the  midst  of  them,  she  was  seized  with  a  disease, 
of  which  she  died,  June,  1572,  in  her  forty-fourth  year.     Her 


46  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

death  was  not  without  suspicion  of  poison,  which,  if  not  contra- 
dicted by  the  circumstances,  would  be  rendered  sufficiently  credi- 
ble by  the  character  of  that  court,  which  soon  after  acted  the 
horrible  tragedy  of  the  massacre  of  Saint  Bartholomew's. 


Charlotte  D' Albert  was  the  wife  of  Caesar  Borgia,  whose 
misfortunes  she  shared  without  reproaching  him  of  his  vices. 
She  was  pious,  sensible,  witty,  and  had  much  genius  for  poetry. 
Her  husband  was  guilty  of  almost  every  crime  known  to  human 
nature,  while  she  was  practising  every  virtue  that  adorns  her  sex. 


Aldrude,  countess  of  Bertinoro,  in  Romagna,  has  been  highly 
celebrated  by  Italian  writers,  for  the  loveliness  of  her  person, 
the  courtesy  of  her  manners,  and  the  superiority  of  understand- 
ing, with  which  she  was  blessed.  Her  fortune  was  princely, 
her  munificence  extensive,  and  she  was  universally  beloved  and 
admired;  but  the  circumstance  which  peculiarly  handed  her 
down  to  posterity,  is  the  military  ardor  which  glowed  in  her 
breast.  Anconia,  a  city  situated  on  the  Adriatic  sea,  Avas  be- 
sieged, in  the  year  1167;  and,  though  the  inhabitants  bravely 
repelled  the  attacks  of  their  enemies,  famine  reduced  them  to 
the  utmost  distress.  As  the  fort  was  blockaded,  no  hopes  could 
be  entertained  of  succor.  In  this  situation,  they  determined  to 
apply  to  William,  son  of  Marcheitto  degh  Adelarde,  for  relief; 
and  three  of  their  nobles  contrived  to  elude  the  vigilance  of  their 
enemies,  and  reached  Ferrara  in  a  small  ship.  William  gene- 
rously consented  to  afford  them  the  succor  they  demanded,  and 
hastened  into  Lombardy  to  assemble  his  troops;  but  advised 
them  likewise,  to  implore  the  aid  of  the  countess  of  Bertinoro, 
who  had  a  large  body  of  troops  at  her  command.  Moved  with 
compassion  for  the  unfortunate  Anconians,  the  amiable  countess 
promised  the  assistance  which  they  solicited,  and  assembling 
her  troops,  united  them  to  Williuni's.  When  they  arrived  near 
Anconia,  she  addressed  them  in  the  following  words : — '*■  Forti- 
fied and  encouraged  by  the  favor  of  heaven,  I  have,  contrary  to 
the  custom  of  my  sex,  determined  to  address  you  in  a  plain 
exhortation,  which,  though  it  may  not  be  flattering  to  your  ears, 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  47 

may  serve  to  rouse  the  vigor  of  your  minds.  I  solemnly  swear 
to  you,  that  on  the  present  occasion,  no  views  of  interest,  no 
dreams  of  ambition,  have  impelled  me  to  succor  the  beiseged. 
Since  the  death  of  my  husband,  though  plunged  in  sorrow,  I 
have  found  myself  undisputed  mistress  of  his  domains.  The 
preservation  of  my  numerous  possessions,  to  which  my  wishes 
are  limited,  afford  for  my  sex  and  capacity,  a  sufficient  occupa- 
tion of  my  time ;  but  the  perils  which  encompass  the  wretched 
Anconians,  united  to  the  tears  and  prayers  of  the  women,  appeal 
to  humanity  for  aid.  To  relieve  a  people  consumed  by  famine, 
exhausted  by  resistance,  and  exposed  to  calamites,  I  have  left  my 
dominions,  accompanied  by  my  son,  who,  though  a  little  child, 
recalls  to  my  remembrance  the  great  soul  of  his  father,  by  whom 
the  wretched  were  protected,  and  the  afflicted  redressed.  And 
you,  warriors  of  Lombardy  and  Romania,  not  less  illustrious  for 
your  fidelity  to  your  engagements,  than  renowned  for  your  valor 
in  the  field;  you,  whom  the  same  cause  has  brought  here  to  obey 
the  orders,  and  emulate  the  example  of  William  Adelarde,  who 
listening  only  to  his  generosity  and  love  of  freedom,  has  not  scru- 
pled to  engage  his  possessions,  his  friends,  and  his  vassals,  for  the 
deliverance  of  Anconia ;  a  conduct  so  generous,  so  worthy  of 
praise,  requires  no  comment;  beneath  our  sense  of  it,  magna- 
nimity and  language  fail.  An  enterprise,  so  full  of  glory,  has 
already  nearly  succeeded ;  already  have  you  passed  the  defiles 
occupied  by  the  enemy,  and  pitched  your  tents  in  the  hostile 
country.  It  is  now  the  time  that  the  seed  which  was  scattered 
should  bring  forth  fruit;  it  is  time  to  make  trial  of  your  strength, 
and  that  valor,  for  which  you  are  distinguished ;  for  courage  is 
relaxed  by  delay.  Let  the  dawn  of  day  find  you  under  arms, 
that  the  sun  may  illumine  the  victory  promised  by  the  Most 
Fligh,  for  your  pity  to  the  unfortunate."  This  exhortation  was 
received  by  the  soldiery  with  reiterated  bursts  of  applause ;  and 
the  Venetians,  alarmed  at  the  united  force  v.hich  had  assembled 
for  the  relief  of  the  Anconians,  thought  it  most  prudent  to  make 
a  retreat.  To  what  period  the  life  of  this  great  and  amiable 
woman  was  extended,  the  biographer,  who  gives  the  preceeding 
account,  does  not  relate :  but  the  date  of  her  birth,  and  the  exact 


48  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

time  when  she  closed  her  existence,  are  uninteresting  when  com- 
pared with  her  superior  abilities  and  worth. 


Aria,  or  Arria,  a  Roman  lady,  the  wife  of  CaBcina  Pastus, 
whose  fortitude  and  conjugal  affection  have  immortalized  her 
name.  Several  acts  of  noble  firmness  were  crowned  by  that 
which  terminated  her  existence.  Her  husband,  having  rebelled 
against  Claudius,  was  ordered  to  destroy  himself  Seeing  him 
hesitate,  Aria  plunged  the  poniard  into  her  own  breast,  to  give 
him  courage  to  do  the  act  he  determined  on,  or  was  ordered  to 
do,  and  presented  it  to  him,  saying  at  the  same  time,  "  Paetus,  it 
is  not  painful !"  Self  destruction  was,  in  the  Roman  creed,  no 
moral  crime.  Cato,  Brutus,  and  hundreds  of  their  mightiest 
men,  had  done  it.  Aria's  heroism  was  not  less  than  theirs;  and 
that  heroic  spirit,  which  taught  her  husband  the  road  to  death, 
would,  in  a  Christian  course,  in  a  day  of  more  glorious  light, 
have  made  her  a  martyr,  and  a  saint :  and  although  her  exam- 
ple cannot  now  be  followed  in  any  case,  yet,  her  courage  and 
fortitude  should  not  be  forgotten.  The  great  Pliny  was  her 
biographer. 

Agnes,  wife  of  Andrew  III.,  king  of  Hungary,  was  the 
daughter  of  Albert,  emperor  of  Germany.  She  distinguished 
herself  by  her  address,  and  political  abilities ;  but  appears  to 
have  had  more  Machiavelian  policy  than  true  greatness  of  mind. 
After  the  death  of  her  father,  she  resided  in  Switzerland,  where 
her  finesse  was  of  great  service  to  her  brother,  Albert  II.,  with 
whom  these  people  were  at  war.     She  died  in  1364. 


Alice,  queen  of  France,  wife  of  Lewis  VII.,  third  daughter 
of  Thibaut  the  Great,  count  of  Champagne.  The  princess 
receiving  a  careful  education  in  the  magnificent  court  of  her 
father,  and  possessing  the  natural  qualifications  of  beauty,  good- 
nature, wit,  and  a  fondness  for  poetry,  in  which  consisted  a  great 
part  of  the  literature  of  that  age,  was  much  extolled,  for  those 
advantages.  Independent  of  allying  himself  with  Thibaut, 
whom  he  bad  found  a  powerful  enemy,  and  thus  detaching  him 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  49 

from  the  interest  of  the  English,  already  too  potent  in  France, 
Lewis  VII.,  on  the  death  of  his  second  wife,  in  1160,  saw  none 
equal  to  Alice  in  personal  charms  and  character.  He  accordingly 
demanded  her  of  her  father,  who,  with  his  family  and  nobles, 
repaired  immediately  to  the  court  of  France,  where,  soon  after, 
the  nuptials  were  celebrated  with  great  magnificence.  And  to 
cement  the  union  more  strongly,  two  daughters  of  the  king,  by 
his  first  wife,  were  married  also  to  the  two  elder  sons  of  the 
count.  Four  years  afterwards,  in  1165,  she  had  a  son,  after- 
wards Philip  Augustus,  to  the  great  joy  of  Lewis,  and  the 
nation  in  general.  Tenderly  beloved  by  her  husband,  whose  ill 
health  often  interfered  with  the  duties  of  his  station,  Alice  not 
only  assisted  him  in  conducting  the  affairs  of  the  nation,  but 
superintended,  with  affectionate  zeal,  the  education  of  her  son, 
who  afterwards  became  one  of  the  greatest  of  the  French  mon- 
archs.  Lewis  died  in  1180,  having  appointed  Alice  to  the 
regency;  but  the  young  prince  being  married  to  Isabella  of 
Hainault,  niece  to  the  earl  of  Flanders,  the  authority  was  bal- 
anced between  them,  and  produced  frequent  disputes.  She 
applied  to  Henry  II.,  of  England,  who  reconciled  Philip  to  his 
mother,  and  her  brothers ;  and  her  son  was  so^well  satisfied  with 
her  conduct,  that  in  1190,  on  going  to  the  Holy  Land,  he  con- 
fided, by  the  advice  of  his  barons,  the  education  of  his  son,  and 
the  regency  of  the  kingdom  to  Alice,  and  her  brother  the  cardi- 
nal, archbishop  of  Rheims,     She  died  at  Paris,  in  1205. 


AisHA,  a  poetess  of  Spain,  during  the  time  the  Moors  had 
possession  of  that  kingdom.  At  this  time  the  Moors  cultivated 
every  species  of  polite  literature  with  success,  while  the  rest  of 
Europe  was  sunk  in  ignorance  and  sloth.  Amongst  the  womei> 
who  particularly  distinguished  themselves,  was  this  lady,  daugh- 
ter of  the  duke  of  Almedi,  so  that  "she  was  honored  and  esteemed 
by  kings."  Her  poems  and  orations  were  often  read  with 
applause  in  the  royal  academy  of  Corduba.  She  was  a  virtuous 
character,  lived  unmarried,  and  left  behind  her  many  monu- 
ments of  her  genius,  and  a  large  and  select  library.  The  muses 
have  long  since  departed  from  the  Iberian  shores. 

5 


50  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

SoPHONisBA  Angesciala,  01  Angussala,  an  Italian  lady  of 
a  noble  Cremonse  family,  born  in  1535,  manifested  an  early  love 
of  drawing,  and  was  put  under  the  tuition  of  Gotti.  In  a  short 
time  she  became  a  complete  mistress  of  painting,  and  acquired 
a  high  reputation.  Philip  II.  invited  her  to  Spain,  patronized 
her  liberally,  and  gave  her  in  marriage  to  Don  Fabricio  de 
Moncorda,  who  took  her  to  Sicily,  her  native  country.  After 
his  death,  she  married  a  noble  Genoese.  At  the  age  of  sixty- 
seven  she  lost  her  sight ;  but  she  continued  to  be  the  charm  of 
the  enlightened  society  which  she  called  around  her.  She  died 
at  Genoa,  about  1620. 


Lady  Blanche  Arundel,  was  daughter  to  Edward  Somer- 
set, earl  of  Worcester.  Wardour  castle,  being  summoned,  May 
2d,  1643,  by  the  parliament  forces  under  Sir  Edward  Hun- 
gerford,  to  surrender,  the  lady  Arundel,  who  commanded  it  in 
the  absence  of  her  husband,  refused  to  deliver  it  up,  alledging 
that  she  had  orders  from  her  lord  to  keep  it,  and  those  orders  she 
was  determined  to  obey.  On  this  reply,  the  cannon  were  drawn 
up,  and  the  battery  commenced,  which  continued  from  Wednes- 
day to  the  following  Monday.  The  castle  contained  about 
twenty-five  fighting  men.  During  the  siege  two  mines  were 
sprung,  by  the  explosion  of  which,  every  room  in  the  fortress 
was  shaken  and  endangered.  The  besiegers,  more  than  once, 
offered  to  give  quarter  to  the  women  and  children,  on  condition 
that  the  besieged  should  surrender  their  arms  at  discretion.  Bui 
the  ladies  of  the  family  disdained  to  sacrifice  their  brave  friends 
and  faithful  servants  to  their  own  safety;  and  when  the  latter  were 
almost  worn  out  by  watching,  they,  with  their  female  servants,  as- 
sisted in  loading  the  muskets,  and  in  administering  refreshments 
to  their  intrepid  defenders.  When  at  length  they  were  obliged 
to  surrender,  honorable  terms  of  capitulation  were  agreed  upon, 
by  which  both  the  lives  and  the  property  in  the  fortress  were  to 
be  spared.  The  besiegers,  however,  only  respected  their  lives, 
while  they  plundered  and  burnt  the  castle ;  so  that  the  loss  of 
the  earl  of  Arundel  was  computed  at  one  hundred  thousand 
pound?.     The  conduct  of  her  enemies  pierced  the  heart  of  a 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  81 

mother,  by  obliging  her  to  separate  from  her  children.  Two 
sons,  the  elder  only  nine,  and  the  younger  seven  years  of  age, 
were  torn  from  her  arms,  and  carried  captive  to  Dorchester. 

Lady  Arundel  is  buried  with  her  husband,  near  the  altar  of 
an  elegant  chapel,  at  Wardour  castle;  on  the  monument  is  an 
inscription,  which,  after  giving  their  titles  and  ancestry,  thus  con- 
cludes :  "  This  lady,  as  distinguished  for  her  courage,  as  for  the 
splendor  of  her  birth,  bravely  defended,  in  the  absence  of  her 
husband,  the  castle  of  Wardour,  with  a  spirit  above  her  sex,  for 
nine  days,  with  a  few  men,  against  Sir  Edward  Hungerford, 
Edmund  Ludlow,  and  their  army,  and  then  delivered  it  up  on 
honorable  terms.  Obit.  28  October,  1649,  Etat.  66.  Requiescat 
in  pace.  '  Who  shall  find  a  valiant  woman  ?  The  price  of 
her  is  as  things  brought  from  afar  offi  and  from  the  uttermost 
coast.     The  heart  of  her  husband  trusteth  in  her.'— Pro  v.  31." 


Abella,  a  female  writer,  born  at  Saleme,  in  the  reign  of 
Charles  VL,  of  France.  She  wrote  copiously  upon  medicine, 
and  her  works  were  held  in  high  estimation  for  many  years. 


Ayesha,  was  the  daughter  of  Abubeker,  and  favorite  wife  of 
Mahomet,  whom  he  married  when  she  was  only  nine  years 
of  age.  She  produced  Mahomet  no  offspring,  hut  was  much 
beloved  by  him  until  his  death,  which  took  place  in  her  arms. 
Ayesha  was  always  much  respected  by  the  Moslems,  who  styled 
her  the  "  Mother  of  the  Faithful;"  and  her  influence,  which  on 
some  occasions  she  exercised  rather  imprudently,  was  consider- 
able. On  the  accession  of  Ali,  she  raised  a  revolt,  and  was 
carried  in  a  litter,  at  the  head  of  the  army  which  marched  against 
him.  In  the  first  battle  that  ensued,  she  was  exposed  to  much 
personal  danger.  According  to  the  Arabian  writers,  the  hands 
of  seventy  men  were  cut  ofil  who  successively  held  the  hridle  of 
her  camel.  At  length,  being  taken  prisoner,  Ali,  after  some 
mutual  reproaches  had  passed  between  them,  caused  her  to  be 
respectfully  conveyed  to  Medina,  only  requiring  her  to  live 
peaceably  at  home,  and  no  longer  interfere  in  public  affairs.  She 
regained  a  portion  of  her  influence  under  his  successor,  Moawyah, 


52  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

but  died  soon  after,  in  the  fifty-eighth  year  of  the  Hegira,  A.  D. 
672,  aged  67. 

Lady  Mary  Armeyne,  was  eminent  for  her  piety  and  learn- 
ing, as  well  as  rank,  in  the  seventeenth  century.  She  was  the  wife 
of  Sir  William  Armeyne,  and  daughter  to  Henry,  fourth  son  of 
George  Talbot,  Earl  of  Shrewsbury.  She  was  well  read  in  the 
ancient  and  modern  languages,  and  left  behind  her  several 
monuments  of  her  munificence  in  hospitals  and  other  charitable 
foundations.     Her  death  took  place  in  1675. 


Mary  AsTELL,  was  an  English  lady  who  attained  considerable 
eminence  as  a  public  writer,  in  the  early  part  of  the  last  century. 
She  was  born  at  Newcastle,  on  Tyne,  in  1668,  and,  instructed  by 
her  uncle,  a  clerg5rman,  in  Latin,  French,  philosophy,  mathe- 
matics, and  logic.  When  about  twenty,  she  removed  to  London ; 
where,  and  at  Chelsea,  she  spent  the  remainder  of  her  life,  de- 
voting her  leisure  to  literary  composition.  Her  first  production 
was  "  A  Serious  Proposal  to  the  Ladies,  wherein  a  method  is 
offered  for  the  Improvement  of  their  Minds."  London,  1697; 
12mo.  The  establishment  of  a  seminary  for  female  education 
on  a  large  scale,  was  the  object  of  this  work,  which  attracted 
much  notice.  The  rest  of  her  works  relate  chiefly  to  the  reli- 
gious controversies  of  the  times.  She  advocated  high  church 
principles,  attacked  the  writings  of  Locke  and  Archbishop 
Tillotson,  and  was  complimented  by  Dr.  Waterland.  She  died 
in  1731. 


Margaret  D'Attendole,  wife  of  Michael  de  Catignola, 
and  sister  of  the  great  Sforzas,  founder  of  the  house  of  Sforzas, 
dukes  of  Milan.  Of  obscure  birth  and  education,  this  family 
seemed  all  to  inherit  the  same  heroic  spirit.  When  James, 
count  de  la  Marche,  came  to  espouse  the  queen  of  Naples,  Sforza, 
then  grand  constable,  was  sent  to  meet  him;  but  that  prince 
threw  him,  his  relations,  and  suite  into  prison ;  thinking  by  this 
means  to  attain,  with  more  ease,  the  tyrannic  power,  which  he 
afterwards  assumed.     Margaret  assembled  an  army,  took  the 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  53 

command,  and  besieged  the  king  in  a  castle,  where  the  conditions 
proposed  to  him  were,  to  be  contented  with  the  title  of  lieutenant- 
general  of  the  kingdom,  and  give  Sforza  his  liberty.  Knowing 
the  value  of  his  hostage,  he  sent  deputies  to  Margaret,  menacing 
him  with  instant  death,  if  Tricarica  was  not  given  up  to  him. 
Anxious  for  her  brother,  but  indignant  at  the  proposition,  she 
instantly  formed  the  resolution  of  imprisoning  the  deputies, 
whose  families,  alarmed  for  their  safety,  ceased  not  to  intercede, 
till  the  count  consented  to  set  Sforza  and  his  friends  at  liberty, 
and  to  reinstate  him  in  his  former  situation. 


Anna  the  Prophetess. — The  character  of  this  aged  and 
holy  woman,  although  barely  mentioned  by  the  Evangelists,  is 
finely  portrayed  by  Cox,  in  his  Female  Scripture  Biography^ 
and  is  at  once  a  sample  and  a  proof,  how  much  a  few  satisfactory 
facts  may  be  enlarged  by  an  ingenious  lover  of  his  subject. 

"  Two  illustrious  women  have  already  been  presented  to  the 
reader  as  adorning  the  era  of  our  Saviour's  incarnation ;  the  one, 
the  mother  of  his  humanity,  the  witness  of  his  miracles,  and  the 
weeping  attendant  upon  his  crucifixion  ;  the  other,  her  venerable 
relative,  the  wife  of  Zacharias,  and  the  parent  of  John,  who  was 
the  destined  precursor  of  the  '  desire  of  all  nations.'  We  are 
now  to  contemplate  another  female,  whose  age  super-adds  a 
charm  to  her  excellences,  and  whose  privilege  also  it  was  to 
witness  the  commencing  brightness  of  the  evangelical  day.  Like 
Elizabeth,  her  'memorial'  is  short,  but  it  does  not  '  perish  with 
her.'*  She  has  a  place  in  the  chronicles  of  the  redeemed,  a 
name  before  which  that  of  heroes  and  heroines  fade  away,  and 
which  it  requires  no  'storied  urn  nor  animated  bust'  to  per- 
petuate. 

"  Anna  is  introduced  to  our  notice  on  the  memorable  occasion 
which  has  been  already  mentioned,  when  the  parents  of  Jesus 
took  him  afler  his  circumcision  to  Jerusalem,  to  '  present  him  to 
the  Lord.'  Then  it  was  that  Simeon  broke  forth  in  eloquent 
and  prophetic   congratulations,  expressive  at  once  of  his  own 

*  Ps.  ix.  6. 

5* 


54  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

triumph  over  death,  in  consequence  of  having  witnessed  the 
accomplishment  of  those  prophecies,  which  had  so  long  and  so 
often  filled  him  with  delightful  anticipations,  and  of  the  '  glory/ 
which  he  foresaw  would  irradiate  Israel  and  enlighten  the  Gen- 
tiles. Scarcely  had  he  finished  his  address,  when  Anna,  a 
prophetess,  remarkable  for  her  extreme  age  and  exemplary  piety, 
entered  the  temple,  and  not  only  united  with  Simeon  and  the  rest 
of  the  interesting  group  in  '  giving  thanks  unto  the  Lord,'  but 
•  spake  of  him  to  all  them  that  looked  for  redemption  in  Jerusalem.' 

*'  It  was  befitting  the  majesty  of  the  event  which  had  occurred, 
that  the  spirit  of  prophecy  should  revive  after  being  dormant  for 
about  four  hundred  years.  Since  the  days  of  Malachi  no  such 
inspiration  had  been  afforded ;  but  the  new  and  glorious  period, 
commencing  with  the  incarnation,  was  marked  by  this,  as  well 
as  other  signs  and  wonders.  When  Simeon  held  the  infant 
Saviour  in  his  arms,  the  Spirit  of  God  touched  his  tongue  with 
a  live  coal  from  the  altar ;  and  Avhen  the  aged  '  daughter  of 
Phanuel'  approached,  she  caught  the  glow  of  kindling  rapture, 
and  blended  with  his  her  praises  and  predictions. 

"  This  eminent  woman  is  represented  as  '  of  great  age,'  as 
having  '  lived  with  a  husband  seven  years  from  her  virginity,' 
and  as  being  '  a  widow  of  about  fourscore  and  four  years,  which 
departed  not  from  the  temple,  but  served  God  with  fastings  and 
prayers,  night  and  day.'*  This  form  of  expression  does  not 
seem  to  furnish  decisive  evidence  whether  her  entire  age  was 
eighty-four,  or  whether  she  was  a  widow  during  that  period  ;  if 
the  latter,  the  seven  years  in  which  she  lived  with  a  husband, 
together  with  the  probable  number  which  constituted  her  age  at 
the  time  of  her  marriage,  must  be  added  to  the  calculation,  which 
v/ould  produce  considerably  more  than  a  hundred  years ;  in 
either  case  she  must  be  allowed  to  occupy  a  conspicuous  place 
in  the  records  of  longevity. 

"  It  has  been  observed  of  the  aged,  that  although  existence, 
when  extended  beyond  the  usual  period  of  '  threescore  years  and 
ten,'  is  nothing  but  '  labour  and  sorrow,'  they  still  adhere  to  life 

*  Luke  ii.  36,  37. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  55 

with  the  utmost  tenacity,  and  are  even  less  disposed  to  relinquish 
it  than  those  whose  more  vigorous  powers  and  undecayed  youth 
capacitate  them  for  its  enjoyment.  But  however  surprised  we 
may  be  to 'witness  this  anxiety  to  live,  in  those  who  are  bending- 
beneath  the  pressure  of  years  and  the  load  of  decrepitude,  and  to 
see  that  this  anxiety  rather  increases  than  diminishes,  there  is 
something  in  it  by  no  means  unnatural.  In  addition  to  the  love 
of  life,  which  is  implanted  in  every  human  bosom  for  the  wisest 
purposes,  the  aged  person  cannot  but  feel  that  he  is  nearer  than 
others  to  that  hour  of  separation  from  all  the  connexions  and 
interests  of  time,  than  the  multitude  around  him ;  an  hour  at 
which  nature  instinctively  shudders,  and  which  is  always  re- 
garded as  painful,  whatever  may  be  the  result.  Corporeal  suf- 
fering may  be  considerable ;  and  that  change  of  being  which 
the  mortal  stroke  produces  has  always  something  about  it  awful, 
mysterious,  and  terrific.  There  are  few  instances  in  which  it 
can  be  approached  without  some  degree  of  dread,  some  shrink- 
ing of  mind,  whatever  be  the  state  of  detachment  from  the  pre- 
sent world,  and  whatever  pleasing  anticipations  may  exist  w^th 
regard  to  another :  as  the  patient,  however  assured  of  the 
necessity  of  the  measure,  and  the  importance  of  the  result, 
trembles  while  preparations  are  making  to  amputate  his  disor- 
dered limb.  It  may  be  observed  also  of  the  young,  that  while 
they  compassionate  their  aged  friends  as  the  prey  of  a  thousand 
imbecilities,  both  of  body  and  mind,  and  lament  over  a  state  in 
which  man  is  reduced  to  a  second  childhood,  there  is  scarcely  an 
individual  who  does  not  harbor  in  secret  the  wish  to  attain  an 
age  equal  at  least,  if  not  superior,  to  any  of  his  contemporaries. 
The  reason  is  similar  to  that  which  influences  persons  at  an 
advanced  period  of  life ;  the  thought  of  death,  w^ith  all  its  con- 
comitant evils,  is  unwelcome  at  any  time,  and  consequently  it  is 
grateful  to  the  mind  to  place  it  at  the  greatest  conceivable  dis- 
tance ;  so  that,  were  it  now  within  the  appointments  of  Provi- 
dence, or  the  bounds  of  probability,  little  doubt  can  be  entertained 
that  the  great  proportion  of  mankind  w^ould  readily  accept  as  a 
blessing,  a  patriarchal  or  antediluvian  age. 

"  Anna  is  particularly  noticed  as  the  daughter  of  Phanuel,  of 


56  FEMAl^E    BIOGRAPHY. 

whom  we  have  no  other  information,  and  as  belonging  to  the 
tribe  of  Asher,  which  was  situated  in  Galilee.  This,  whether 
recorded  for  that  purpose  or  not,  might  serve  to  refute  the  charge, 
that  '  out  of  Galilee  ariseth  no  prophet,'  since  from  that  quarter 
proceeded  the  very  first  inspirations  upon  the  re^dval  of  the 
prophetic  spirit.  Asher  was  a  very  inferior  tribe,  and  one  of  the 
ten,  carried  captive  by  the  Assyrians,  having  departed  from  the 
worship  of  the  true  God,  and  from  the  house  of  David,  under  Jero- 
boam. But,  notwithstanding  this  general  defection,  there  were 
individuals  who  returned  and  reunited  themselves  with  Judah, 
that  they  might  enjoy  the  ancient  privileges  of  the  people  of  God. 
Thus,  even  in  the  worst  of  times,  and  amidst  the  least  favorable 
circumstances,  some  portion  of  true  religion  has  always  been 
preserved  in  the  earth.  Though  the  watchful  eye  of  Provi- 
dence has  occasionally  suffered  the  flame  of  devotion  to  languish, 
and  almost  expire,  yet  its  total  extinction  has  been  prevented,  and 
unexpected  coincidences  have  frequently  excited  it  into  new  and 
more  vigorous  action. 

"  We  have,  in  the  history  before  us,  a  specimen  of  a  pious  old 
age,  remarkable  in  itself,  and  calculated  to  suggest  a  variety  of 
useful  considerations.  This  holy  woman  probably  lodged  in 
the  immediate  vicinity,  if  not  in  some  of  the  outward  apart- 
ments of  the  temple,  Avhich  gave  her  an  opportunity  of  indulging 
in  those  constant  devotions  which  accorded  with  her  wishes  and 
comported  with  her  age.  On  every  occasion  she  was  present  at 
appointed  services;  and  so  entire  was  her  self-devotement  to 
religion,  that  she  was  incessantly  engaged  in  fasting  and  prayer. 
The  Avorld  had  no  claims  on  her,  being  alike  unfitted  for  any 
of  its  avocations,  and  indisposed  to  any  of  its  pleasures.  She 
had  bid  it  a  final  farewell,  and  had  withdrawn  behind  the  scenes 
of  this  vast  theatre,  which  are  so  artfully  painted  as  to  allure 
and  deceive  the  imaginations  of  mankind,  into  the  secrecy  of 
devotion,  and  the  sanctuary  of  her  God.  Peace  was  the  com- 
panion of  her  retirement,  and  piety  shed  its  serenest  ray  upon 
the  evening  of  her  mortal  existence. 

"  It  may  be  presumed  that  the  religion  of  Anna  was  by  no 
means  of  a  recent  date,  but  that  the  seeds  of  so  rich  a  harvest 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  ht 

were  sown  in  *  the  fields  of  youth.'  Whatever  is  great  or  emi- 
nent is  usually  the  work  of  time.  Nature  does  not  produce  the 
oak,  with  its  spreading  branches  and  solid  trunk,  in  a  day,  or  a 
twelvemonth ;  and,  in  general,  a  rapid  luxuriancy  is  connected 
with  corresponding  weakness,  and  a  quick  decay.  The  plans 
of  Providence  require  the  lapse  of  years  or  ages  to  accomplish ; 
events  of  importance  seldom  burst  suddenly  upon  the  world,  and 
without  a  previous  course  of  preparatory  dispensations,  tending 
to  point  out  the  purposes  of  such  occurrences,  and  to  awaken 
human  expectations.  Nor  can  excellence  of  character  be  formed 
without  the  use  of  means,  opportunities  of  progressive  improve 
ment,  and  that  experience  which  must  be  slowly  gained. 

"  Far  be  it  from  us  to  limit  the  operations  of  divine  grace :  it 
can,  indeed,  and  in  some  instances  has,  produced  effects  of  a  na- 
ture to  which  no  general  rules  and  principles  are  applicable :  it 
has  instantaneously  converted  a  furious  persecutor  into  a  faithful, 
laborious,  and  eminent  preacher  of  'the  faith  which  he  once 
destroyed:'*  it  has  transformed  a  malefactor  into  a  saint,  and  in 
one  hour  raised  the  criminal  from  the  depths  of  infamy,  and  the 
agonies  of  crucifixion,  to  the  dignity  of  a  believer  in  Christ,  and 
the  joys  of  paradise.f  But  these,  surely,  ought  not  to  be  regard- 
ed as  the  ordinary  methods  of  its  operation,  but  rather  as  miracu- 
lous interferences.  In  general,  religious  ordinances  are  to  be 
constantly  and  perseveringly  attended,  in  order  to  the  acquisition 
of  eminence  in  religion.  Holy  vigilance  must  concur  with 
devout  and  fervent  prayer,  day  by  day,  to  check,  and  finally  van- 
quish the  power  of  depravity,  to  elevate  the  mind  above  the  world, 
and  prepare  the  Christian  for  his  future  bliss ;  as  the  child  must 
commonly  be  '  trained  up  in  the  way  he  should  go,'  if  we  hope 
that  '  when  he  is  old  he  will  not  depart  from  it.'  \  Impressions 
deepen  and  acquire  the  force  of  principles  by  degrees ;  know- 
ledge is  obtained  by  perpetual  accumulation ;  and  faith  is  increas- 
ed by  constant  exercise.  It  would  be  as  vain  to  look  for  the 
wrinkles  of  age  in  the  face  of  youth,  or  the  strength  of  maturity 
in  the  arm  of  an  infant,  as  to  expect  the  experience,  which  can 

*  Gal.  1.  23.  tLuke  xxiii.  43.  tProv.  xxii.  6. 


58  FEMALE  EIOGRAFHY. 

only  result  from  the  witness  of  changes,  and  the  operation  of  cir- 
cumstances, with  its  corresponding  stability  of  character,  in  him 
who  has  but  just  commenced  a  life  of  piety.  As  '  the  husband- 
man waiteth  for  the  precious  fruits  of  the  earth,  and  hath  long 
patience  for  it  until  he  receive  the  early  and  the  latter  rain,'  *  so 
we  must  in  general  look  for  a  slow  and  gradual  formation  of  the 
character  to  eminence  and  spiritual  luxuriancy.  The  account 
fifiven  of  Anna  would  therefore  lead  us  to  infer  that  she  had  been 
many  years,  and  in  all  probability  from  her  youth,  devoted  to  the 
service  of  God.  She  had  not  to  regret  that  her  best  days  were 
spent  in  riot  and  dissipation,  in  opposition  or  indifference  to  reli- 
gion, by  Avhich  so  many  debase  their  nature,  offend  their  Maker, 
and  ruin  their  souls ;  but  while  she  contemplated  the  future  with- 
out alarm,  and  perhaps  with  joy,  she  could  review  the  past  with 
satisfaction. 

"  As  memory  predominates  over  the  other  faculties  of  the 
mind  in  declining  life,  and  as  so  much  of  our  happiness  and 
misery,  at  that  period,  must  necessarily  result  from  its  exercise,  it 
is  of  the  utmost  importance  to  lay  up  in  store  a  good  provision  in 
the  '  sacred  treasure  of  the  past.'  Nothing  can  be  more  desirable 
than  to  leave  the  mind  filled  with  pleasing  recollections ;  and 
this  can  arise  only  from  a  life  of  holiness  and  purity.  How 
awful  is  it  to  think  that  the  last  hours  should  be  disturbed  by 
images  of  crime  unrepented  of,  the  intrusion  of  which  into  the 
dying  chamber  no  force  can  prevent !  How  lamentable  to  see 
the  terrors  of  death  aggravated  by  the  remorse  and  horrors  of 
retrospection !  '  Life,'  says  a  profound  writer,!  '  in  which  no- 
thing has  been  done  or  suffered,  to  distinguish  one  day  from 
another,  is  to  him  that  has  passed  it,  as  if  it  had  never  been, 
except  that  he  is  conscious  how  ill  he  has  husbanded  the  great 
deposit  of  his  Creator.  Life,  made  memorable  by  crimes,  and 
diversified  through  its  several  periods  by  wickedness,  is  indeed 
easily  reviewed,  but  reviewed  only  with  horror  and  remorse. 

"  '  The  great  consideration  which  ought  to  influence  us  in  the 
use  of  the  present  moment,  is  to  arise  from  the  effect  which,  as 

*  J  ames  5.  7.  t  Dr.  Johnson. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY,  59 

well  or  ill  applied,  it  must  have  upon  the  time  to  come ;  for, 
though  its  actual  existence  be  inconceivably  short,  yet  its  effects 
are  unlimited,  and  there  is  not  the  smallest  point  of  time  but 
may  extend  its  consequences,  either  to  our  hurt,  or  our  advan- 
tage, through  all  eternity,  and  give  us  reason  to  remember  it  for 
ever,  with  anguish  or  exultation.' 

"We  may  take  occasion,  from  the  account  of  Anna,  to  remark, 
that  true  religion  is  the  most  substantial  support  amidst  the  in- 
firmities of  age.  This  is  emphatically  the  period  of  '  evil 
days,'  when  diseases  prey  upon  the  constitution,  and  the  facul- 
ties both  of  body  and  mind  decay.  Then  '  the  sun  and  the  light, 
the  moon  and  the  stars  are  darkened  ;'  the  greatest  change  takes 
place  in  the  outward  circumstances  of  gladness  and  prosperity, 
the  countenance  of  the  man  is  altered,  his  complexion  faded,  and 
his  intellectual  faculties,  as  the  understanding  and  the  fancy, 
weakened.  It  is  at  this  time  '  the  keepers  of  the  house  tremble, 
and  the  strong  men  bow  themselves ;  the  grinders  cease,  because 
they  are  few,  and  those  that  look  out  of  the  windows  are  dark- 
ened ;'  the  strongest  members  of  the  body  fail,  the  limbs  bend 
beneath  the  weight  of  decrepitude,  and  the  effects  of  paralytic 
distempers ;  the  teeth  drop  away,  while  the  eyes  grow  dim  and 
languid ;  '  the  doors  are  shut  in  the  streets  when  the  sound  of 
the  grinding  is  low,'  the  mouth  becoming  sunken  and  closed ; 
they  '  rise  up  at  the  voice  of  the  bird,'  awakened  from  imperfect 
slumber  when  the  cock  crows,  or  the  birds  begin  their  early 
songs ;  and  '  all  the  daughters  of  music,'  the  tongue  that  ex- 
presses, and  the  ears  that  are  charmed  with  it,  are  '  brought 
low  ;'  they  are  '  afraid  of  that  which  is  high,  and  fears  are  in 
the  way,'  alarmed  at  every  step  they  take,  lest  they  should  stum- 
ble at  the  slightest  obstacle,  and  especially  apprehensive  of  the 
difficulties  of  any  ascent.  At  that  age  their  gray  hairs  thicken 
like  the  white  flowers  of  the '  almond  tree'  when  it  '  flourishes,' 
and  even  the  very  '  grasshopper  is  a  burden,'  for  they  cannot 
bear  the  slightest  inconvenience,  not  even  the  weight  of  an  in- 
sect, and  'desire  fails ;'  then,  is  the  'silver  cord  loosed,  the  golden 
bowl  broken ;  the  pitcher  is  broken  at  the  fountain,  and  the 
wheel  is  broken  at  the  cistern ;'  all  the  animal  and  vital  functions 


60  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

at  length  cease,  and  every  essential  organ  of  life  decays ;  •  then 
shall  the  dust  return  to  the  earth  as  it  was,  and  the  spirit  shall 
return  unto  God  who  gave  it.'* 

"  Reduced  to  the  state  of  feebleness  and  incapacity,  which  the 
sacred  penman  so  beautifully  describes,  man  becomes  an  object 
of  compassion ;  and  it  is  affecting  to  see  him  struggling  amidst 
the  ruins  of  his  former  self  The  sight  becomes  increasingly 
painful  from  the  consideration  that  this  is  one  day  to  be  our  own 
condition  ;  that  we  too  are  destined  to  grow  old,  to  quit  the  busy 
scene  and  the  social  circle  for  the  solitude  of  age,  and  in  our  turn 
to  be  pitied — perhaps  forsaken  !  But  there  is  one  thing  capable, 
not  only  of  preserving  the  old  from  contempt,  but  of  raising  them 
to  grandeur  and  diffusing  lustre  over  their  years  of  decrepitude. 
In  contemplating  Anna  we  do  not  think  of  her  infirmities  when 
we  observe  her  piety;  the  meanness  of  the  woman — tottering, 
crippled,  dying — is  lost  amidst  the  majesty  of  the  saint,  inces- 
santly serving  God  in  his  temple,  and  advancing  to  the  grave  '  in 
a  full  age,  like  as  a  shock  of  corn  cometh  in  his  season.'!  The 
dawning  of  a  heavenly  day  seems  to  arise  upon  her  *  hoary 
head ;'  which,  '  being  found  in  the  way  of  righteousness,'  is  a 
*  crown  of  glory.' J 

"  Anna's  history  further  suggests,  that  religion  is  the  most  ef- 
fectual guard  against  the  vices  of  advanced  age.  One  of  these 
is  a  spirit  of  querulousness.  It  is  the  common  practice  of  those, 
who  believe  themselves  entitled  to  veneration  on  account  of  their 
years,  to  complain  of  the  arrogant  disregard  of  their  counsels, 
which  they  impute  to  the  rising  generation.  Cherishing  the 
highest  opinion  of  their  own  sentiments,  to  which  they  attribute 
a  kind  of  infallibility,  as  being  founded  upon  experience,  they 
naturally  expect  implicit  submission  to  their  dictates,  and  an  ex- 
act conformity  to  their  views  :  they  require  not  only  to  be  heard 
but  obeyed,  and  are  impatient  at  the  folly  of  those  who  rebel 
against  their  wisdom.  Hence  originate  the  often  repeated  tales 
of  the  degeneracy  of  the  present  times,  and  the  growing  inso- 
lence of  the  young.     It  may,  indeed,  be  admitted,  that,  other 

*  Eccles.  xii.  2—7.       t  Job  v.  26.       tProv.  xvi.  31. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  61 

things  being  equal,  the  aged  have  a  just  claim  upon  the  attention 
of  the  young,  whom  they  are  sometimes  qualified  to  instruct ; 
but  surely  they  are  not  always  entitled  to  the  same  reverence, 
and  age  does  not  necessarily  confer  wisdom.  Genuine  humility, 
however,  tends  to  correct  the  spirit  of  dictation,  while  it  combines 
with  an  affectionate  concern  for  the  interests  of  those  who  are 
newly  come  into  life ;  and  genuine  humility  is  the  product  of 
religion,  which  supplies  motives  to  give  advice  with  kindness, 
and  to  endure  the  rejection  of  it  without  anger. 

"  Another  fault  of  age,  is  the  indulgence  of  useless  regrets  for 
the  past.  In  reviewing  life,  it  is  easy  to  discover  instances  of 
oar  own  incaution  or  negligence,  which  have  possibly  influenced 
our  affairs,  and  been  connected  with  many  subsequent  disap- 
pointments. We  have  not  availed  ourselves  of  fortunate  con- 
junctures, or  we  have  rejected  profitable  offers ;  one  scheme  has 
failed  by  our  precipitancy,  another  by  our  procrastination ;  some 
persons,  perhaps,  have  been  foolishly  trusted,  and  others  as  fool- 
ishly suspected ;  we  have  occasionally  listened  to  advice  which 
should  not  have  been  taken,  or  rejected  what  would  have  proved 
advantageous ;  and  the  consequence  has  been,  some  diminution 
of  fortune,  some  disappointment  of  our  expectations,  some  failure 
in  the  crop  of  earthly  enjojTuent  which  we  had  anticipated.  If 
it  were  possible  to  recall  the  years  which  have  for  ever  rolled 
away,  or  if  the  felicity  of  a  rational  and  immortal  being  con- 
sisted in  the  possession  of  temporal  abundance,  w^orldly  honor, 
or  corporeal  gratification,  these  regrets  would  have  some  show 
of  propriety,  and  might  at  least  secure  a  patient  hearing ;  but  it 
is  certain,  they  only  betray  a  weak  or  a  wicked  mind ;  it  is  per- 
haps equally  certain,  they  will  generally  continue  to  occupy  the 
thoughts  of  the  aged.  There  is,  in  fact,  but  one  remedy,  '  pure 
and  undefiled  religion.'  It  is  this  alone  which  can  fix  in  the 
mind  a  full  persuasion  of  the  nothingness  of  terrestial  pleasures 
and  possessions.  This  only  can  console  us  after  our  ineffectual 
efforts  to  '  gain  the  whole  world,'  or  amidst  the  loss  of  riches 
which  have  '  taken  to  themselves  wings,'  and  long  since  '  fled 
away,'  by  the  assurance,  that  nothing  we  ever  possessed  was 
adequate  to  render  us  happy,  without  other  and  better  enjoy- 


62  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

ments — that  upon  a  fair  estimate,  it  is  questionable  whether  the 
perplexities  it  occasioned,  did  not  counterbalance  the  advantages 
it  either  bestowed  or  promised — and  that  could  we  now  call  our 
own  whatever  we  have  most  valued  or  desired  of  worldly  good, 
it  would  prove  incapable  of  making  us  substantially  happy.  He 
need  not  wish  to  renew  life,  who  has  the  hope  of  a  better  exist- 
ence— nor  regret  the  loss  of  temporal  advantages,  if  he  have 
immortal  good.  He  who  '  lays  up  for  himself  treasures  in  hea- 
ven,' may  defy  the  storms  of  time,  and  adopt  the  triumphant 
language  of  the  apostle,  amidst  the  wreck  of  earthly  good,  '  ha- 
ving nothing,  yet  possessing  all  things.'* 

"  Similar  views  and  principles  alone  can  correct  a  third  error 
of  age,  namely,  the  aim  to  prolong  juvenility  to  an  unnatural 
period.  '  To  secure  to  the  old  that  influence  which  they  are 
willing  to  claim,  and  which  might  so  much  contribute  to  the 
improvement  of  the  arts  of  life,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that 
they  give  themselves  up  to  the  duties  of  declining  years ;  and 
contentedly  resign  to  youth  its  levity,  its  pleasures,  its  frolics, 
and  its  fopperies.  It  is  a  hopeless  endeavor  to  unite  the  contra- 
rieties of  spring  and  winter ;  it  is  unjust  to  claim  the  privileges 
of  age,  and  retain  the  playthings  of  childhood.  The  young  al- 
ways form  magnificent  ideas  of  the  wisdom  and  gravity  of  men 
whom  they  consider  as  placed  at  a  distance  from  them  in  the 
ranks  of  existence,  and  naturally  look  on  those  whom  they  find 
trifling  with  long  beards  with  contempt  and  indignation,  like 
that  which  women  feel  at  the  effeminncy  of  men.  If  dotards 
will  contend  with  boys  in  those  performances  in  which  boys 
must  always  excel  them,  if  they  will  dress  crippled  limbs  in 
ejubroidery,  endeavor  at  gaiety  with  faltering  voices,  and  darken 
assemblies  of  pleasure  Avith  the  ghastliness  of  disease,  they  may 
well  expect  those  who  find  their  diversions  obstructed,  will  hoot 
them  away ;  and  that  if  they  descend  to  competition  with  youth, 
they  must  bear  the  insolence  of  successful  rivals.'! 

"  Religion  also,  must  be  regarded  as  the  best  preparation  for 
that  end  of  life,  with  which  old  age  is   so  closely  connected. 

*  2  Cor.  vi.  10.  t  Dr.  Johnson. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  68 

However  proper  it  may  be  to  realize  this  eventful  time,  at  every 
period  from  our  earliest  to  our  latest  day,  it  cannot  but  be  re- 
garded as  more  certainly  and  evidently  near  at  an  advanced  age. 
Anna,  after  the  lapse  of  a  century,  had  greater  reason,  surely,  to 
apprehend  her  dissolution,  than  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  or  at  the 
commencement  of  her  widowhood :  and  howappaling  the  prospect ! 

It  would  diminish  the  impression  we  have  of  the  terror  of 
death,  if  his  dominion  were  limited  to  a  part  of  the  world,  or  to 
any  ascertainable  extent  of  years ;  but,  while  his  authority  con- 
tinues unimpaired,  and  his  stroke  irresistible,  the  power  he  is 
permitted  to  exercise  over  humankind  is  universal.  In  visiting 
the  repositories  of  the  dead,  it  is  calculated  to  awaken  our  live- 
liest sensibilities  to  trace  the  reign  of  the  "king  of  terrors"  upon 
the  sepulchral  stone,  or  the  marble  monument.  In  characters 
which  time  has  almost  erased,  we  read  the  records  of  the  past, 
and  by  a  more  than  probable  analogy  penetrate  some  of  the 
mysteries  of  the  future.  Here  and  there  occur  the  names  of 
those  who  were  venerable  for  age,  remarkable  for  their  exploits, 
conspicuous  by  their  station,  rank,  or  talent — great  by  the  con- 
sent of  their  contemporaries — who  once  figured  upon  a  stage 
which  is  now  decayed,  or  were  illustrious  in  an  empire  w' hich  is 
now  passed  away.  Some  have  been  smitten  by  death's  wither- 
ing hand  at  an  earlier,  some  at  a  later  period  of  life.  Adjoining 
the  grave  of  age  is  the  tomb  of  youth.  There  you  see  the  stone 
half  buried  in  accumulating  heaps  of  earth,  and  the  inscriptions 
of  love  and  tenderness  obscured  by  collecting  moss ;  while  the 
hand  that  wrote  them  has  long  since  become  motionless,  and  the 
heart  that  dictated  them  ceased  to  beat. 

It  is  affecting  to  visit  places  of  public  resort,  under  the  full 
influence  of  the  consideration,  that  this  busy  and  anxious  croAvd 
will  soon  disappear — their  race  will  be  run,  and  the  immortal 
prize  gained  or  lost !  These  possessors  of  the  soil  w^ill,  in  a 
little  time,  be  disinherited — these  tenants  of  a  day  exchanged — 
the  funeral  pall  will  cover  the  most  ambitious,  and  the  most  ac- 
tive of  them  all,  and  the  motley  multitude  be  succeeded  by  others 
equally  busy,  equally  anxious,  equally  thoughtless  of  another 
state  of  being — and  equally  mortal ! 


64  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

But  these  sentiments,  however  calculated  to  fill  irreligious 
persons  with  dread  and  melancholy,  can  produce  no  despondency 
in  those  who,  like  Anna,  are  accustomed  to  the  truths  of  religion, 
and  derive  the  chief  pleasures  both  of  their  youthful  and  decrepit 
age  from  the  services  of  religion.     With  regard  to  death  itself, 
they  are  taught  that  his  power  is  limited  to  the  body,  and  that  it 
is  restricted  even  to  a  short  period  over  this  inferior  part  of  our 
nature;  and  as  to  its  consequences,  they  cannot  incessantly  fre- 
quent the  temple,  and  be  occupied  in  devotion,  without  learning 
the  value,  as  well  as  the  reality,  of  those  considerations  which 
are   drawn  from  eternity.     They  know  that  'this  corruptible 
shall  put  on  incorruption,  this  mortal  put  on  immortality,'  and 
that  then  'there  shall  be  no  more  death.'*     And  what  do  these 
expressions  imply,  but  the  entire  renovation  of  our  nature  ?  Man 
is  mortal,  because  he  is  sinful ;  and,  consequently,  the  removal 
of  sin  will  prove  the  extinction  of  death.     It  is  only  by  the 
introduction  of  moral  evil  that  the  earth  has  been  converted  into 
a  vast  cemetery,  and  life  become  a  short  and  rugged  passage  to 
the  sepulchre ;  but,  when  it  shall  no  longer  prevail,  our  sanctified 
nature  will  inherit  the  abodes  of  purity  and  undecaying  existence. 
"  It  is  this  consideration  which  endears  celestial  felicity.    Ex- 
emption from  death  implies  deliverance  from  sin,  and  the  Chris- 
tian wishes  to  possess  a  character  which  God  shall  approve,  and 
to  be  cleansed  from  those  stains  of  guilt  which  infect  his  present 
being,  and  render  him  offensive  to  his  father  in  heaven.     Were 
he  destined  always  to  be  unholy,  he  would  scarcely  contemplate 
immortality  as  a  blessing ;  but  because  he  has  reason  to  antici- 
pate '  awaking'  from  the  sleep  of  the  grave,  in  the  divine  '  like- 
ness,'! he  realizes  a  period  in  the  bright  annals  of  his  future 
being,  when  he  shall  no  longer  have  occasion  to  exclaim,  '  O 
wretched  man  that  I  am !  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body 
of  this  death  ?'  + 

"  The  pains  of  separation  too,  which  afflict  this  mortal  state, 
cannot  exist  in  that  '  better  country.'  Society  will  unquestiona- 
bly prove  one  considerable  source  of  the  happiness  of  heaven, 

*  1  Cor.  XV.  54.  Rev.  xxi.  4.  t  Ps.  xvii.  15.  t  Rom.  vii.  24. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  65 

where  immortal  beings  will  be  so  circumstanced  and  capacitated, 
as  both  to  receive  and  impart  enjoyment.  The  very  nature  of 
man  is  constituted  social :  and  thousfh  our  circumstances  in  this 
life  often  render  temporary  separations  unavoidable,  in  a  perfect 
state  of  society  they  must  be  needless ;  consequently  they  will 
not  be  suffered  to  impair  the  joys  of  paradise. 

'•  The  most  afflictive  of  all  separations,  is  that  which  is  occa- 
sioned by  death.  In  all  other  cases,  a  lingering  hope  may  exist 
of  a  re-union  at  some  period,  however  distant ;  at  least  the  possi- 
bility of  it  is  cheering :  but,  even  if  there  be  no  reasonable 
expectation  of  this,  the  very  consciousness  that  our  friend  is  still 
alive,  still  ^on  earth,  still  capable  of  receiving  and  performing 
acts  of  kindness,  still  able  to  communicate  with  us  by  letter  or 
by  message,  to  participate  in  our  pleasures,  to  sympathize  with  our 
sorrows,  and  to  pray  for  our  welfare,  is  consoling  in  every  vicis- 
situde; but  when  death  sets  his  awful  seal  upon  our  companion, 
relative,  or  friend,  we  cherish  a  deeper  feeling  of  grief,  and  can- 
not look  to  any  earthly  means  of  consolation :  but  we  can  look 
to  a  heavenly  one  !  Whatever  resource  fails,  the  religion  of  the 
bible  supplies  inexhaustible  springs  of  comfort.  God  is  on  high 
— JesQS  'ever  lives' — christians  know  they  shall  soon  pass  into 
a  world,  where  the  happy  circle  will  never  be  broken,  the  com- 
munion of  kindred  spirits  never  cease,  the  day  of  blessedness 
never  decline,  the  sabbath  of  immortality  never  terminate. 

"  It  is  in  the  temple  also,  that  those  who,  like  Anna,  receive 

just  impressions  from  its  services,  and  live  in  a  state  of  holy 

intercourse   with  God,  learn  to  appreciate  the  capacities  of  a 

spiritual  mind  for  progression  in  wisdom  and  felicity,  and  by 

consequence,  to  cherish  the  noblest  anticipations  of  their  own 

future  possible  elevation  of  character.     How  many  unfinished 

schemes  are  frustrated  by  death !     Our  plans  of  futurity,  our 

purposes  of  gain,  or  our  resolves  of  usefulness,  may  be  ended  in 

one  short  hour.     Here  the  labors  of  the  industrious,  the  studies 

of  the  learned,  the  investigations  of  the  philosopher,  and  the 

career  of  the  pious,  close.     The  grave  silences  the  voice  of  the 

preacher,  and  paralyzes  the  hand  of  the  charitable.     Here  the 

arguments  of  a  Paul  end — here  the  silver  tongue  of  an  Apollos 

6* 


66  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

is  speechless — here  the  hands  of  a  Dorcas  cease  to  manufactur«» 
for  the  poor,  whose  unavailing  tears  cannot  recall  departed  piety. 

"  But  who  will  define  the  limits  of  possible  attainment  in 
knowledge  and  excellence  in  a  state  of  deathless  existence? 
Society  is  always  improving,  even  in  the  present  world,  amidst 
all  its  imperfections.  The  researches  of  past  ages  have 
transmitted  a  vast  stock  of  wisdom  to  their  successors,  both  in 
reference  to  natural  science  and  religious  truth.  Who  can  tell 
what  discoveries  a  Newton  might  have  made,  had  he  possessed 
a  terrestrial  immortality?  or  who  can  conceive  what  heights  and 
depths  of  divine  knowledge  might  have  been  disclosed,  had  the 
apostles  of  Christ  been  premitted  to  live  to  the  present  period, 
and  had  it  been  the  will  of  God  that  they  should  have  received 
a  constant  succession  of  revelations  ? 

"  In  both  these  cases,  not  only  has  death  terminated  this  series 
of  bright  discovery,  but  this  earth  is  not  the  destined  place,  nor 
time  the  destined  period,  for  those  manifestatiofis  of  eternal  wis- 
dom, which  we  have  reason  to  believe  will  take  place  in  another 
world.  Those  impediments  to  knowledge,  and  those  reasons  for 
concealment,  which  at  present  exist,  will  be  removed,  and  truth 
open  all  her  treasures  to  immortalized  and  sanctified  spirits. 

"  The  consequence  of  the  progressive  disclosure  of  spiritual 
things,  of  the  works  and  ways  of  God,  will  be  progressive  im- 
provement: and,  as  in  consequence  of  the  clearer  developement 
of  truth  in  the  gospel,  '  he  who  is  least  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
is  greater  than  John  the  Baptist ;'  so,  when  all  the  shadows 
and  clouds  that  bedim  our  present  existence  shall  have  disap- 
peared, and  a  ray  of  heaven  pours  its  glorious  illumination  upon 
the  mysteries  of  time,  the  least  in  the  paradise  of  God  will  be 
greater  than  the  most  distinguished  in  his  church  on  earth.  And 
as  we  shall  never  cease  to  improve  in  knowledge — for  there  will 
be  no  termination  to  our  spiritual  researches — there  will  prob- 
ably arrive  a  period  in  eternity,  when  he  who,  at  the  resurrection, 
will  be  least  in  the  heavenly  world,  in  capacity  and  glory,  will 
become  greater,  in  consequence  of  ever  new  discoveries,  than  at 
that  moment  will  be  the  greatest  of  the  redeemed  universe.  And 
the  meanest  Christian  on  earth  may  indulge  the  hope,  that,  at  a 


FEMALE  BIOGRArHY.  67 

future  age,  even  he  may  become  superior  in  knowledge,  in  love, 
in  capacity,  and  in  glory,  to  what  the  brightest  seraph,  or  the 
tallest  archangel,  is,  at  present,  in  the  heaven  of  heavens ;  for  who 
can  tell  what  God  may  do  for  beatified  souls  ?  Who  dare  limit 
the  operations  of  his  mercy,  or  who  can  imagine  to  what  an  ele- 
vation of  wisdom  and  felicity  an  emparadised  believer  may  attain? 

"  Progression  is  the  law  of  a  thinking  being.  And  why 
should  it  not  operate  upon  holy  intelligences  in  the  future  state, 
as  well  as  in  the  present  ?  and  why  not  when  '  there  shall  be  no 
more  death,'*  to  an  incalculably  greater  extent?  Why  should 
not  every  new  idea,  acquired  in  that  world,  become  a  seed  of 
truth  in  the  mind,  that  shall  spring  up  and  bear  fruit,  multiply 
and  expand,  without  restriction  and  without  end? 

"  There  is  not  in  religion  a  nobler,  or  a  more  animating  sen- 
timent, than  this  perpetual  advancement  of  the  soul  towards  per- 
fection. Life  has  its  maturity  and  decline,  nature  its  boundaries 
of  beauty,  human  affairs  their  zenith  of  glory ;  but,  in  '  the  new 
heavens  and  new  earth  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness,'!  every 
thing  will  be  eternally  upon  the  advance — there  will  be  no  end 
to  the  path  of  knowledge — present  acquisitions  will  be  the  basis 
of  subsequent  acquirements — we  shall  be  continually  outshining 
ourselves,  by  making  nearer  approaches  to  infinite  goodness — 
and  the  whole  moral  creation  will  be  for  ever  beautifying  in  the 
eyes  of  God." 

Jeanne  D'Arragon,  one  of  the  most  celebrated  Italian  ladies 
of  the  age,  and  married  to  a  prince  of  the  house  of  Colonna, 
was  mother  of  the  famous  Marc  Anthony  Colonna,  who  signal- 
ized himself  at  the  battle  of  Lepanto,  against  the  Turks.  She  is 
famous  by  the  elegies  composed  to  her  honor  by  the  greatest 
wits  of  her  time,  and  in  most  languages,  as  Greek,  Latin,  Italian, 
French,  Spanish,  Sclavonic,  Polonese,  Hungarian,  and  even 
Hebrew  and  Chaldean,  one  of  the  most  singular  monuments, 
undoubtedly,  that  gallantry  ever  raised  to  female  merit.  This 
homage  was  decreed  her  in  1555,  at  Venice,  in  the  academy  of 

*Rev.  xxi.  4.  t2.  Pet.  iii.  13. 


68  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Dubiosi,  and  published  there  in  1558,  under  the  title  of  Templo 
alia  divina  Arragona.     She  died  very  aged,  in  1577. 


AsPAsiA,  the  daughter  of  Axiochus,  was  born  at  Miletus.  She 
came  to  Athens,  where  she  taught  eloquence.  Socrates  was 
proud  to  be  among  her  scholars.  The  great  Pericles  became 
her  pupil,  and  was  so  enamored  with  her,  that  he  married  her, 
and  for  many  years  was  governed  by  her  wisdom  and  eloquence. 
She  has  been  called  a  courtezan ;  but  probably  after  ages  have 
mistaken  the  moral  conduct  of  this  fair,  from  a  fact  in  the  his- 
tory and  laws  of  the  Athenians,  which  would  not  suffer  a  foreign 
woman  to  marry  an  Athenian ;  and  as  she  v/as  married  to  Peri- 
cles against  that  law,  that  the  severe  and  envious  called  hard 
names,  without  much  reason,  as  they  have  done  in  every  age 
since,  and  others  love  to  repeat  them.  But  it  is  impossible  that 
so  moral  a  man  as  Socrates,  and  so  wise  a  man  as  Pericles,. 
should  have  cherished  an  intimacy  with  one  of  an  abandoned 
character.  If  a  female  moves  in  an  exalted  sphere,  she  is 
always  subject  to  calumny.  She  felt  no  disposition  to  save  her 
fame  by  seeking  a  nunnery,  or  any  other  seclusion.  Modern 
times  should  do  justice,  and  fear  not  to  "  pluck  the  wizzard  beard 
of  hoary  error." 

Ann  Amelia,  princess  of  Prussia,  sister  to  Frederick  the 
great,  born  in  1723,  died  1787.  She  distinguished  herself  by 
her  taste  for  the  arts.  She  set  to  music  "  The  death  of  the  Mes- 
siah" by  Romler.  She  was  a  decided  friend  to  the  far-famed 
Baron  Trenck ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt,  but  that  this  attach- 
ment for  the  princess,  was  the  cause  of  Trenck's  misfortunes. 
Frederick  was  incensed  that  a  subject  should  aspire  to  the  hand 
of  his  sister.  She  continued  her  attachment  to  Trenck  when  both 
had  grown  old,  and  Frederick  was  in  his  grave,  but  death  de- 
prived her  of  providing  for  Trenck's  children  as  she  intended. 


Anyta,  an  ancient  Greek  poetess,  some  fragments  of  whose 
compositions  are  preserved  in  a  collection  of  eminent  female 
poets,  published  in  Hamburgh,  in  1734. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  69 

Maria  Melleville  Allen,  wife  of  William  Allen,  D.  D., 
late  president  of  Bowdoin  College,  was  the  daughter  of  John 
Wheelock,  LL.  D.,  second  president  of  Dartmouth  College. 
She  was  the  only  child  of  her  parents,  and  the  object  of  their 
fondest  affections ;  of  course,  she  was  indulged  in  every  whim, 
even  while  they  supposed  they  were  putting  her  under  strict 
discipline.  Possessing  a  fine  constitution,  and  an  amiable  dis- 
position, she  was  as  lovely  as  the  wild  flower  of  her  native  hills, 
and  buoyant  as  the  air  she  breathed.  Her  enmities  were  as 
transient  as  a  passing  cloud,  and  her  friendship's  as  sweet  as  a 
summer's  sun.  Reputed  to  be  wealthy,  and  acknowledged  to  be 
handsome,  she  had  a  host  of  admirers,  when  only  a  child,  "  who  , 
felt  or  feigned  a  flame ;"  with  those  who  followed  in  her  train, 
she  laughed  an  hour  away,  and  every  day  saw  some  new  ad- 
mirer ;  but  she  was  not  married  until  she  had  reached  the  mature 
age  of  twenty-six,  when  she  was  united  to  Dr.  Allen,  who  is 
still  living.  Mr.  Allen  was  her  own  and  her  father's  choice; 
Dr.  Wheelock  could  have  none  but  a  scholar  for  a  son-in-law, 
and  she  had  too  long  been  acquainted  with  literary  men  to  wed 
one  not  devoted  to  letters.  The  marriage  was  hailed  as  one 
most  suitable,  by  all  their  friends,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  but 
her  life  was  a  happy  one.  She  was  a  religious  woman,  and 
softened  the  ills  of  life,  such  as  she  was  called  to  suffer  in  the 
death  of  parents  and  friends,  by  the  precepts  and  consolations  of 
the  gospel  she  professed.  In  married  life,  as  in  single,  she  was 
the  charm  of  the  social  circle.  Her  talents  were  of  no  ordinary 
cast,  yet  she  seemed  never  to  think  of  herself  as  one  having  any 
particular  gifts  of  fortune.  She  died  in  1829,  aged  forty  years, 
leaving  her  husband  with  several  children.  There  are  those 
who  cherish  her  memory  as  maiden,  and  matron,  and  friend. 


Abassa,  sister  of  Haroun  Al  Raschid,  Caliph  of  Bagdad. 
She  was  one  of  the  loveliest  of  Arabian  women,  skilled  in  all 
the  learning  of  her  age.  She  was  married  to  Giafar,  of  an 
illustrious  race,  but  falling  under  the  displeasure  of  her  brother, 
her  husband  was  slain,  and  she  was  banished  from  the  city,  and 
buried  in  exile  and  poverty.     Among  the  fragments  of  the  Ara- 


70  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

bian  muse  is  a  poem  on  her  beauty,  talents,  and  misfortunes, 
which  stamps  as  a  tyrant,  in  her  case,  the  name  of  Raschid ; 
which  is  otherwise  elevated  and  brilliant  in  the  history  of  the 
ninth  century. 


Abigail  Adams. — The  following  character  of  Mrs.  Adams 
was  drawn  by  the  editor  of  this  work,  near  the  time  of  the  death 
of  this  excellent  woman,  and  published  in  the  New  England 
Galaxy,  and  was  copied  into  the  Port  Folio  of  February,  1819, 
with  the  following  remarks : — 

"  In  the  ensuing  article,  an  unknown  writer  has  pronounced 
the  eulogium  of  eminent  virtues,  combined  with  a  masculine 
understanding,  and  adorned  with  all  the  courtesies  of  polished 
society.  We  have  heard  many,  who  had  both  the  means  and 
the  power  to  form  an  estimate  of  the  character  of  this  distin- 
guished lady,  expatiate  in  terms  of  affectionate  regard  and  pro- 
found respect,  on  the  admirable  qualities  of  Mrs.  Adams.  Our 
personal  observation  is  in  unison  with  these  sentiments,  and  we 
therefore  contribute  our  feeble  aid  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of 
a  lady  who,  as  the  companion  of  one  statesman,  and  the  guide 
of  another,  is  entitled  to  no  ordinary  rank  in  the  scroll  of  Ameri- 
can matrons." 

"  Mrs.  Adams  was  the  daughter  of  a  New-England  clergy- 
man settled  within  a  few  miles  of  Boston :  a  man  respectable  in 
his  holy  office,  and  who  educated  his  children  in  the  best  man- 
ner of  the  times.  The  personal  and  mental  accomplishments  of 
his  daughter  attracted  the  attention  and  secured  the  affection  of 
Mr.  Adams,  then  a  young  man  of  distinction  at  the  bar  in  Mas- 
sachusetts. They  were  married  in  the  year  1764,  and  resided 
in  Boston.  The  revolutionary  difficulties  were  then  fast  in- 
creasing, and  Mr.  Adams  was  conspicuously  engaged.  i;jWhen  a 
continental  congress  was  formed,  he  was  sent  a  delegate  from 
Massachusetts  to  this  body.  It  was  a  perilous  moment.  The 
wise  were  baffled,  the  courageous  hesitated,  and  the  great  mass 
of  the  people  were  inflamed,  but  confused :  they  had  no  fixed 
and  settled  purpose,  but  all  was  left  for  the  development  of  time. 
Mr.  Adams  was  one  of  the  boldest  in  the  march  of  honest  resist- 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  71 

ance  to  tyranny.  He  looked  farther  than  the  business  of  the 
day,  and  ventured  at  that  early  period,  to  suggest  plans  of  self- 
government  and  independence.  To  Mrs.  Adams  he  communi- 
cated his  thoughts  freely  on  all  these  high  matters  of  state,  for 
he  had  the  fullest  confidence  in  her  fortitude,  prudence,  secrecy, 
and  good  sense,  without  the  test  which  the  Roman  Portia  gave 
her  lord,  to  gain  his  confidence  in  matters  of  policy,  'when  the 
state  was  out  of  joint.'  When  Mr.  Adams  was  appointed  to 
represent  his  country  at  the  court  of  St.  James,  his  Avife  went 
with  him,  and  such  was  her  exquisite  sense  of  propriety,  her 
republican  simplicity,  her  delicate  and  refined  manners,  her 
firmness  and  dignity,  that  she  charmed  the  proud  circles  in  which 
she  moved,  and  they  speak  of  her,  to  this  day,  as  one  of  the 
finest  women  that  ever  graced  an  embassy  to  that  country. 

"When  Mr.  Adams  was  chosen  vice-president,  she  was  the 
same  unaffected,  intelligent,  and  elegant  woman.  No  little 
managements,  no  private  views,  no  sly  interference  with  public 
aflTairs,  was  ever,  for  a  moment,  charged  to  her.  When  her  hus- 
band came  to  the  chair  of  the  chief  magistrate,  the  widest  field 
opened  for  the  exercise  of  all  the  talents  and  acquirements  of 
Mrs.  Adams ;  and  her  fondest  admirers  were  not  disappointed. 
She  graced  the  table  by  her  courtesy  and  elegance  of  manners, 
and  delighted  her  guests  by  the  powers  of  her  conversation. 
Through  the  drawing-room  she  diffused  ease  and  urbanity, 
and  gave  the  charm  of  modesty  and  sincerity,  to  the  interchanges 
of  civility.  But  this  was  not  all ;  her  acquaintance  with  public 
affairs,  her  discrimination  of  character,  her  discernment  of  the 
signs  of  the  times,  and  her  pure  patriotism,  made  her  an  excellent 
cabinet  minister;  and,  to  the  honor  of  her  husband,  he  never 
forgot  nor  undervalued  her  worth.  The  politicians  of  that  period 
speak  with  enthusiasm  of  her  foresight,  her  prudence,  and  the 
wisdom  of  her  observations.  Tracy  respected,  Bayard  admired, 
and  Ames  eulogized  her.  All  parties  had  the  fullest  confidence 
in  the  purity  of  her  motives,  and  in  the  elevation  of  her  under- 
standing. It  was  a  stormy  period.  Fatigue  and  anguish  often 
overwhelmed  the  president,  from  the  weight  and  multiplicity  of 
his  labors  and  cares ;  but  her  sensibility,  affection,  and  cheerful- 


72  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

ness,  chased  the  frown  from  his  brow,  and  plucked  the  root  of 
bitterness  from  his  heart.  To  those  who  see  the  matters  of  state 
at  a  distance,  or  through  the  medium  of  letters,  all  things  seem 
to  go  on  fairly  and  smoothly;  but  those  who  are  practically 
acquainted  with  the  difficulty  of  administering  the  best  of  govern- 
ments, will  easily  understand  how  much  necessity  there  is  for 
the  wisdom  of  the  serpent,  united  with  the  gentleness  of  the  dove ; 
and  they  too  can  comprehend  how  much  the  delicate  interference 
of  a  sagacious  woman  can  effect.  Pride,  vanity,  and  selfishness 
are  full  of  claims  and  exactions,  all  bustling  and  importunate 
for  office  and  distinction.  Peremptory  denial  produces  enmity 
and  confusion,  but  gentle  evasion  and  cautious  replies  soften  the 
hearts  of  the  restless,  and  temper  the  passions  of  the  sanguine. 
An  intelligent  woman  can  control  these  repinings,  and  hush 
these  murmurings  with  much  less  sacrifice  or  effort  than  men. 
A  woman  knows  when  to  apply  the  unction  of  soft  words, 
without  forgetting  her  dignity,  or  infringing  on  a  single  princi- 
ple which  the  most  scrupulous  would  wish  to  maintain.  Mrs. 
Adams  calmed  these  agitations  of  disappointment,  healed  the 
rankling  wound  of  offended  pride,  and  left  men  in  admiration 
of  her  talents,  and  in  love  with  her  sincerity.  Notwithstanding 
these  numerous  duties  and  great  exertions  as  the  wife  of  a  states- 
man, Mrs.  Adams  did  not  forget  that  she  was  a  parent.  She 
had  several  children,  and  felt  in  them  the  pride  and  interest,  if 
she  did  not  make  the  boast  of  the  mother  of  the  Gracchi.  Many 
women  fill  important  stations  with  the  m.ost  splendid  display  of 
virtues;  but  few  are  equally  great  in  retirement;  there  they 
want  the  animating  influence  of  a  thousand  eyes,  and  the  inspi- 
ration of  homage  and  flattery.  This  is  human  nature  in  its 
common  form,  and  the  exception  is  honorable  and  rare.  Mrs. 
Adams,  in  rural  seclusion  at  Q,uincy,  was  the  same  dignified, 
sensible,  and  happy  woman,  as  when  surrounded  by  fashion, 
wit,  and  intellect.  No  hectic  of  resentment,  no  pangs  of  regret 
were  ever  discovered  by  her,  while  indulging  in  the  retrospec- 
tion of  an  eventful  life,  in  these  shades  of  retirement.  Her 
conversation  showed  the  same  lively  interest  in  the  passing- 
occurrences,  as  though  she  had  retired  for  a  day  only,  and  was 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  73 

to  have  returned  on  the  morro\y  to  take  her  share  in  the  busi- 
ness and  pleasures  of  political  existence,  There  was  no  trick, 
no  disguise  in  this.  It  arose  from  a  settled,  and  perfectly  philo- 
sophical and  christian  contentment,  which  great  minds  only  can 
feel.  Serenity,  purity,  and  elevation  of  thought  preserve  the 
faculties  of  the  mind  from  premature  decay,  and,  indeed,  keep 
them  vigorous  in  old  age.  To  such,  the  lapse  of  time  is  only 
the  change  of  the  shadow  on  the  dial  of  life. 

"  The  hours  which  are  numbered  and  gone  are  noticed,  but 
their  flight  does  not  "  chill  the  genial  current  of  the  soul." 
Religious  thankfulness  for  the  past,  and  faith  in  assurances  for 
the  future,  make  "  the  last  drop  in  the  cup  of  existence  clear, 
sweet,  and  sparkling." 


Anne  Bradstreet,  the  first  female  who  ventured  to  publish 
a  volume  of  poems  in  this  country,  was  a  daughter  of  Thomas 
Dudley,  who  was  chosen  governor  of  Massachusetts  several 
times,  from  1634  to  1650.  Anne  was  born  at  Northampton,  in 
England,  in  1612;  and  was  married  there  in  1628,  to  Simon 
Bradstreet,  who  was  afterwards  governor  of  the  province  also. 
Anne  had  received  an  excellent  education ;  her  father  and  hus- 
band were  both  good  scholars,  but  men  of  different  habits ;  her 
father  was  inflexible  and  intolerant,  and  severe  in  his  opinions 
of  others.  In  the  early  part  of  his  administration  as  chief  ma- 
gistrate, he  showed  his  zeal  against  heretics,  and  this  disposition 
continued  through  life ;  for,  after  his  death,  this  singular  senti- 
ment, expressed,  as  he  would  have  called  it,  in  verse,  was  found 
in  his  pocket : 

"  Let  men  of  God,  in  courts  and  churches  watch. 

O'er  such  as  do  a  toleration  hatch. 

Lest  that  ill  egg  bring  forth  a  cockatrice. 

To  poison  all  with  heresy  and  vice. 

If  men  be  left,  and  otherwise  combine, 

My  epitaph's — I  die  no  libertine." 

Under  the  eye  of  such  a  father  Anne  Dudley  received  her 

first  impressions  of  learning  and  religion,  but  she  married  Simon 

7 


74  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Bradstreet  at  the  early  age  of  sixteen,  whose  mind  was  of  a 
different  cast,  and  whose  disposition  was  gentle  and  affectionate. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  tolerant  of  all  the  puritan  school.  With 
this  mild  and  amiable  man  she  lived  forty-four  years,  and  was 
the  mother  of  eight  children.  Blessed  with  fine  natural  powers 
of  understanding,  early  disciplined  in  a  severe  school  of  think- 
ing, she  displayed  extraordinary  talents ;  and  from  her  situation, 
associated  with  all  the  distinguished  persons  of  the  age  in  which 
she  lived.  At  the  age  of  thirty  she  published  a  volume  of  po- 
ems, which  were  thought  "  a  miracle  of  wit  and  learningP 
It  seems  at  that  time  the  title  page  of  a  book  was  under  the  con- 
trol of  the  publisher,  or  printer,  or  otherwise  one  so  modest  as 
Anne  Bradstreet,  would  not  have  ventured  on  such  a  title  page 
as  graced  this  early  American  offering  to  the  muse. 

The  title  is,  "  Several  Poems  compiled  with  great  variety  of 
wit  and  learning,  full  of  delight ;  wherein  especially  is  contained 
a  complete  discourse  and  description  of  the  four  elements,  con- 
stitutions, ages  of  man,  seasons  of  the  year,  together  with  an 
exact  epitome  of  the  three  first  monarchies,  viz;  the  Assyrian, 
the  Persian,  Grecian,  and  Roman  Commonwealth,  from  the  be- 
ginning to  the  end  of  their  last  kings ;  with  divers  other  pleasant 
and  serious  poems,  by  a  gentlewoman  of  New  England."  The 
most  learned  divines  of  the  day  were  her  admirers.  Norton,  a 
nreeminent  scholar  of  the  day,  wrote  these  complimentary  verses, 
which  expressed  the  general  opinion  of  the  readers  of  Mrs 
Bradstreet's  works ;  for,  although  these  poems  were  anonymous, 
it  was  as  well  known  who  was  the  author  of  them,  as  it  wat 
who  wrote  the  cantos  of  Don  Juan,  a  few  years  ago,  beforr 
Lord  Byron  acknowledged  them :  Her  eulogist  says : 

"  Her  breast  was  a  brave  palace,  a  broad  street, 
Where  all  heroic,  ample  thoughts  did  meet ; 
Where  nature  such  a  tenement  had  ta'en, 
That  other  souls  to  her's  dwelt  in  a  lane," 

The  eulogist  did  not  confine  himself  to  verse,  for  he  expatiated 
in  prose,  and  declared  the  poetry  of  this  wonderful  woman  was 
so  fine,  that  were  Maro  to  hear  it,  he  would  again  condemn  his 
works  to  the  fire.     This  praise  seems  to  us  at  the  present  day, 


FEMALE    BIOGIU.PHY.  7IX 

not  a  little  extravagant;  but  the  writer  had  heard  nothing  in  the 
way  of  poetry  for  several  years,  but  those  shocking  attempts  of 
Elliot  and  Welde  to  translate  the  psalms  of  David  into  English 
verse;  and  any  thing  that  had  sense  with  a  little  rhyme,  no 
doubt  gave  him  great  pleasure.  She  was  as  learned  as  her 
coadjutors,  and  vastly  more  poetical.  In  1658  a  third  edition 
of  these  works  were  published.  The  preface  to  this  edition 
contains  these  words :  "  It  is  the  work  of  a  woman  honored  and 
esteemed  where  she  lives,  for  her  gracious  demeanor,  her  emi- 
nent parts,  her  pious  conversation,  her  courteous  disposition,  her 
exact  diligence  in  her  place,  and  discreet  management  of  her 
family  occasions ;  and  more  so,  these  poems  are  the  fruits  of  a 
few  hours  curtailed  from  her  sleep,  and  other  refreshments." 
Although  she  made  no  great  efforts,  according  to  these  accounts, 
to  write  poetry,  the  highest  praise  is  her  due,  and  she  may  fairly 
be  placed  at  the  head  of  the  American  poets  of  that  age. 

Let  the  reader  examine  the  poem  we  have  selected,  and  then 
say  whether  we  are  correct  or  not. 

CONTEMPLATIONS. 

Some  time  now  past  in  the  Autumnal  Tide, 

When  Phoebus  wanted  but  one  hour  to  bed, 

The  trees  all  richly  clad,  yet  void  of  pride, 

Where  gilded  o'er  by  his  rich  golden  head. 

Their  leaves  and  fruits  seem'd  painted,  but  was  true 

Of  green,  of  red,  of  yellow,  mixed  hue, 

Wrapt  were  my  senses  at  this  delectable  view. 

I  wist  not  what  to  wish,  yet  sure  thought  I, 

If  so  much  excellence  abide  below ; 

How  excellent  is  He  that  dwells  on  high  ! 

Whose  power  and  beauty  by  his  works  we  know. 

Sure  he  is  goodness,  wisdome,  glory,  light. 

That  hath  this  under  world  so  richly  dight : 

More  heaven  than  earth  was  here  no  winter  and  no  night. 

Then  on  a  stately  oak  I  cast  mine  eye. 
Whose  ruffling  top  the  clouds  seem'd  to  aspire; 
How  long  since  thou  wast  in  thine  infancy  ? 
Thy  strength,  and  stature  more  thy  years  admire. 
Hath  hundred  winters  past  since  thou  wast  born  7 
Or  thousand  since  thou  brak'st  thy  shell  of  horn, 
If  so,  all  these  as  nought,  eternitv  doth  scorn. 


76  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Then  higher  on  the  gUstering  sun  I  gaz'd, 

Whose  beams  were  shaded  by  the  leavie  tree, 

The  more  I  look'd,  the  more  I  grew  amaz'd, 

And  softly  said,  what  glory's  like  to  theel 

Soul  of  this  world,  this  Universe's  eye, 

No  wonder,  some  made  thee  a  deity ; 

Had  I  not  better  known,  (alas)  the  same  had  I. 

Thou  as  a  bridegroom  from  thy  chamber  rushest, 

And  as  a  strong  man,  joyes  to  run  a  race, 

The  morn  doth  usher  thee,  with  smiles  and  blushes, 

The  earth  reflects  her  glances  in  thy  face. 

Birds,  insects,  animals  with  vegetive, 

Thy  heart  from  death  and  dulness  doth  revive  : 

And  in  the  darksome  womb  of  fruitful  nature  dive. 

Thy  swift  annual,  and  diurnal  course, 

Thy  daily  straight,  and  yearly  oblique  path, 

Thy  pleasing  fervor,  and  thy  scorching  force, 

All  mortals  here  the  feeling  knowledge  hath. 

Thy  presence  makes  it  day,  thy  absence  night, 

Quaternal  seasons  caused  by  thy  might : 

Hail  creature,  full  of  sweetness,  beauty  and  delight. 

Art  thou  so  full  of  glory,  that  no  eye 

Hath  strength,  thy  shining  rayes  once  to  behold  1 

And  is  thy  splended  throne  erect  so  high  1 

As  to  approach  it,  can  no  earthly  mould. 

How  full  of  glory  then  must  thy  Creator  be, 

Who  gave  this  bright  Ught  lustre  unto  thee ! 

Admir'd,  ador'd  for  ever,  be  that  Majesty. 

Silent  alone,  where  none  or  saw,  or  heard, 

In  pathless  paths  I  lead  my  wandering  feet. 

My  humble  eyes  to  lofty  skyes  I  rear'd 

To  sing  some  song,  my  mazed  Muse  thought  meet. 

My  great  Creator  I  would  magnifie, 

That  nature  had,  thus  decked  liberally : 

But  Ah,  and  Ah,  again,  my  imbecility ! 

I  heard  the  merry  grasshopper  then  sing. 

The  black  clad  cricket,  bear  a  second  part, 

They  kept  one  tune  and  plaid  on  the  same  string, 

Seeming  to  glory  in  their  little  art. 

Shall  creatures  abject,  thus  their  voices  raise  ? 

And  in  their  kind  resound  their  maker's  praise: 

Whilst  I  as  mute,  can  warble  forth  no  higher  layes. 

When  present  times  look  back  to  ages  past, 
And  men  in  being  fancy  those  are  dead, 
It  makes  things  gone  perpetually  to  last. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  77 

And  calls  back  months  and  years  that  long  since  fled. 

It  makes  a  man  more  aged  in  conceit, 

Than  was  Methuselah,  or  's  grand-sire  great; 

While  of  their  persons  and  their  acts  his  mind  doth  treat. 

Sometimes  in  Eden  fair  he  seems  to  be, 
Sees  glorious  Adam  there  made  Lord  of  all, 
Fancyes  the  Apple,  dangle  on  the  Tree, 
That  turn'd  his  Sovereign  to  a  naked  thral. 
Who  like  a  miscreant 's  driven  from  that  place, 
To  get  his  bread  with  pain,  and  sweat  of  face : 
A  penalty  imposed  on  his  backshding  race. 

Here  sits  our  Grandame  in  retired  place, 
And  in  her  lap,  her  bloody  Cain  new  born, 
The  weeping  Imp  oft  looks  her  in  the  face. 
Bewails  his  unknown  hap,  and  fate  forlorne  ; 
His  mother  sighs,  to  think  of  Paradise, 
And  how  she  lost  her  bUss,  to  be  more  wise, 
Believing  him  that  was,  and  is.  Father  of  lyes. 

Here  Cain  and  Abel  come  to  sacrifice, 

Fruits  of  the  earth,  and  fatlings  each  do  bring ; 

On  Abel's  gift  the  fire  decends  from  skies, 

But  no  such  sign  on  false  Cain's  offering; 

With  sullen  hateful  looks  he  goes  his  wayes. 

Hath  thousand  thoughts  to  end  his  brother's  dayes. 

Upon  whose  blood  his  future  good  he  hopes  to  raise. 

There  Abel  keeps  his  sheep,  no  ill  he  thinks. 

His  brother  comes,  then  acts  his  fratricide, 

The  Virgin  Earth  of  blood  her  first  draught  drinksj 

But  since  that  time  she  often  hath  been  cloy'd  ; 

The  wretch  with  ghastly  face  and  dreadful  mind, 

Thinks  each  he  sees  will  serve  him  in  his  kind, 

Though  none  on  Earth  but  kindred  near  then  could  he  find. 

Who  fancyes  not  his  looks  now  at  the  barr. 

His  face  like  death,  his  heart  with  horror  fraught 

Nor  male-factor  ever  felt  like  warr, 

When  deep  despair,  with  wish  of  life  hath  sought, 

Branded  with  guilt,  and  crush  t  with  treble  woes, 

A  vagabond  to  Land  of  Nod  he  goes, 

A  city  builds,  that  wals  might  him  secure  from  foes. 

Who  thinks  not  oft  upon  the  Fathers  ages. 
Their  long  descent,  how  nephew's  sons  they  saw 
The  starry  observations  of  those  Sages, 
And  how  their  precepts  to  their  sons  were  Iaw» 
How  Adam  sighed  to  see  his  progeny, 
7* 


78  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

Clothed  all  in  his  black  sinfull  livery, 

Who  neither  guilt,  nor  yet  the  punishment  could  fly. 

Our  liife  compare  we  with  their  length  of  dayes, 

Who  to  the  tenth  of  theirs  doth  now  arrive  1 

And  though  thus  short,  we  shorten  many  ways, 

Living  so  little  while  we  are  alive ; 

In  eating,  drinking,  sleeping,  vain  delight, 

So  unawares  comes  on  pei-petual  night, 

And  puts  all  pleasures  vain  into  eternal  flight. 

When  I  behold  the  heavens  as  in  their  prime, 

And  then  the  earth  (though  old)  still  clad  in  green, 

The  stones  and  trees,  insensible  of  time. 

Nor  age  nor  wrinkle  on  their  front  are  seen ; 

If  winter  come,  and  greenness  then  do  fade, 

A  Spring  returns,  and  they  more  youthfull  made ; 

But  Man  grows  old,  hes  down,  remains  where  once  he's  laid. 

By  birth  more  noble   than  those  creatures  all. 

Yet  seems  by  nature  and  by  custome  cursed. 

No  sooner  born,  but  grief  and  care  make  fall 

That  state  obliterate  he  had  at  first. 

Nor  youth,  nor  strength,  nor  wisdom  spring  again, 

Nor  habitations  long  their  names  retain, 

But  in  obUvion  to  the  final  day  remain. 

Shall  I  then  praise  the  heavens,  the  trees,  the  earth, 
Because  their  beauty  and  their  strength  last  longer  7 
Shall  I  wish  their,  or  never  to  had  birth. 
Because  they're  bigger,  and  their  bodyes  stronger  7 
Nay,  they  shall  darken,  perish,  fade  and  dye, 
And  when  unmade,  soever  shall  they  lye. 
But  man  was  made  for  endless  immortality. 

Under  the  coohng  shadow  of  a  stately  elm 

Close  sate  I  by  a  goodly  River's  side. 

Where  gliding  streams  the  rocks  did  overwhelm; 

A  lonely  place,  with  pleasures  dignified. 

I  once  thatlov'd  the  shady  woods  so  well 

Now  thought  the  rivers  did  the  trees  excell. 

And  if  the  sun  would  ever  shine,  there  would  I  dwell. 

While  on  the  stealing  stream  I  fixed  mine  eye, 
Which  to  the  long'd-for  Ocean  held  its  course, 
I  markt  nor  crooks,  nor  rubs  that  there  did  lye 
Could  hinder  aught,  but  still  augment  its  force : 
O  happy  Flood,  quoth  I,  that  holdst  thy  race 
Till  thou  arrive  at  thy  beloved  place. 
Nor  is  it  focks  or  shoals  that  can  obstruct  thy  pace. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  79 

Nor  is't  enough,  that  thou  alone  may'st  slide, 
But  hundred  brooks  in  thy  clear  waves  do  meet, 
So  hand  in  hand  along  with  thee  they  glide 
To  Thetis'  house,  where  all  embrace  and  greet : 
Thou  Emblem  true,  of  what  I  count  the  best, 

0  could  I  lead  my  Rivulets  to  rest. 

So  may  we  press  to  that  vast  mansion,  ever  blest. 

Ye  Fish  which  in  this  liquid  region  'bide. 

That  for  each  season  have  your  habitation, 

Now  salt,  now  fresh,  where  you  think  best  to  glide, 

To  unknown  coasts  to  give  a  visitation, 

In  lakes  and  ponds,  you  leave  your  numerous  fry, 

So  nature  taught,  and  yet  you  know  not  why. 

You  watry  folk  that  know  not  your  felicity. 

Look  how  the  wantons  frisk  to  taste  the  air 

Then  to  the  colder  bottome  straight  they  dive, 

Eftsoon  to  Neptune's  glassie  Hall  repair 

To  see  what  trade  the  great  ones  there  do  drive, 

Who  forage  o'er  the  spacious  sea-green  field, 

And  take  the  trembling  prey  before  it  yield. 

Whose  armour  is  their  scales,  their  spreading  fins  their  shield. 

While  musing  thus  with  contemplation  fed, 
And  thousand  fancies  buzzing  in  my  brain, 
The  sweet-tongued  Philomel  percht  o'er  my  head, 
And  chanted  forth  a  most  melodious  strain 
Which  rapt  me  so  with  wonder  and  delight, 

1  judg'd  my  hearing  better  than  my  sight, 

And  wisht  me  wings  with  her  a  while  to  take  my  flight. 

O  merry  Bird  (said  I)  that  fears  no  snares, 

That  neither  toyles  nor  hoards  up  in  thy  barn. 

Feels  no  sad  thoughts,  nor  cruciating  cares 

To  gain  more  good,  or  shun  what  might  thee  harm ; 

Thy  cloaths  ne'er  wear,  thy  meat  is  every  where, 

Thy  bed  a  bough,  thy  drink  the  water  cleer, 

Reminds  not  what  is  past,  nor  what's  to  come  dost  fear. 

The  dawning  morn  with  songs  thou  dost  prevent,* 

Setts  hundred  notes  unto  thy  feather' d  crew, 

So  each  one  tunes  his  pretty  instrument, 

And  warbling  out  the  old  begins  anew. 

And  thus  they  pass  their  youth  in  summer  season. 

Then  follow  thee  into  a  better  Region, 

Where  winter's  never  felt  by  that  sweet  airy  legion. 

*  i.  e.  Anticipate. 


80  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Man's  at  the  best  a  creature  frail  and  vain, 

In  knowledge  ignorant,  in  strength  but  weak : 

Subject  to  sorrows,  losses,  sickness,  pain, 

Each  storm  his  state,  his  mind,  his  body  break  : 

From  some  of  these  he  never  finds  cessation, 

But  day  or  night,  within,  without,  vexation, 

Troubles  from  foes,  from  friends,  from  dearest,  near'st  Relation. 

And  yet  this  sinfull  creature,  frail,  and  vain, 

This  lump  of  wretchedness,  of  sin  and  sorrow, 

This  weather-beaten  vessel  wrackt  with  pain, 

Joyes  not  in  hope  of  an  eternal  morrow : 

Nor  all  his  losses,  crosses  and  vexation. 

In  weight,  in  frequency  and  long  duration 

Can  make  him  deeply  groan  for  that  divine  Translation. 

The  Mariner  that  on  smooth  waves  doth  glide. 
Sings  merrily,  and  steers  his  bark  with  ease, 
As  if  he  had  command  of  wind  and  tide. 
And  now  become  great  Master  of  the  seas; 
But  suddenly  a  storm  spoils  all  the  sport, 
And  makes  him  long  for  a  more  quiet  port, 
'  Which  'gainst  all  adverse  winds  may  serve  for  fort. 

So  he  that  saileth  in  this  world  of  pleasure. 
Feeding  on  sweets  that  never  bit  of  th'  sowre. 
That's  full  of  friends,  of  honour  and  of  treasure. 
Fond  fool,  he  takes  this  earth  ev'n  for  heav'ns  bower. 
But  sad  affliction  comes  and  makes  him  see 
:  Here's  neither  honour,  wealth,  nor  safety ; 

Only  above  is  found  all  with  security. 

O  Time  the  fatal  wrack  of  mortal  things, 

That  draws  obhvion's  curtains  over  kings. 

Their  sumptuous  monuments,  men  know  them  not, 

Their  names  without  a  record  are  forgot. 

Their  parts,  their  ports,  their  pomp's  all  laid  in  th'  dust 

Nor  wit  nor  gold,  nor  buildings  scape  time's  rust ; 

But  he  whose  name  is  grav'd  in  the  white  stone 

Shall  last  and  shine  when  all  of  these  are  gone. 

It  should  be  remembered  that  there  were  no  models  in  Eng- 
lish verse  at  the  time  Anne  Bradstreet  wrote.  She  was  not 
probably  acquainted  with  Shakspeare,  as  a  poet,  ahhough  he 
died  when  she  was  four  years  of  age;  but  the  puritans  could 
know  nothing  of  the  works  of  a  player.  When  she  published 
hei  works,  Milton  had  not  written,  or  certainly  was  not  known  as 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  81 

an  author  of  distinction.  Chaucer  and  Spencer  were  the  only- 
guides  at  that  time.  Perhaps  we  should  except  Francis  Quarles, 
who  was  twenty  years  senior  to  Mrs,  Bradstreet,  and  had 
written  and  published  several  works  previous  to  the  appearance 
of  her  volume.  His  "Emblems,"  and  "  Divine  Fancies,"  with 
all  their  quaintness,  have  a  good  share  of  poetical  merit  in  them ; 
and  from  several  terms  of  expression,  used  by  her,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  but  that  she  had  read  them.  The  phrase,  "  fond 
fool,"  which  she  used,  is  often  found  in  Q,uarles'  "Emblems",  and 
is  applied  in  the  same  sense  by  both,  meaning  one  enamored 
with  the  world,  and  neglectful  of  spiritual  things. 

Anne  Bradstreet  had  a  sister  who  was  married  to  a  clergy- 
man by  the  name  of  Woodbridge,  who  preached  both  in  An- 
dover,  in  the  county  of  Essex,  in  Massachusetts,  and  also  in 
Newbury,  in  the  same  county.  She  also  wrote  poetry;  but 
congratulated  Mrs.  Bradstreet  on  her  publication,  as  looking  up 
to  her  as  a  superior  being  to  herself,  and  favored  by  the  muses, 
beyond  all  females  of  her  time.  Mrs.  Bradstreet  died  at  the  age 
of  sixty,  before  the  country  had  been  agitated  with  the  subject 
of  witch-craft.  The  proceedings,  upon  which  her  honest  hus- 
band, in  his  old  age,  most  stoutly  opposed,  against  the  opinions 
of  Mather  and  Phipps,  two  mighty  names  in  church  and  state. 

More  than  a  century  passed  away  before  another  female  poet 
arose  in  this  country,  worthy  of  being  mentioned  with  Anne 
Bradstreet.  Mercy  Warren  did  not  publish  her  dramas,  and 
other  works,  until  more  than  a  hundred  and  twenty  years  after 
the  poems  of  Anne  Bradstreet  had  been  known  to  the  public. 
The  night  of  darkness  has  gone,  and  numerous  female  votaries 
of  the  muses  have  arisen  to  delight  and  enchant  the  lovers  of 
taste. 


Blanche  or  Castile,  queen  of  France,  was  daughter  of 
Alphonso  IX.,  king  of  Castile,  who  married  her,  in  1200,  to 
Louis  VIII.,  king  of  France.  She  was  the  mother  of  nine  sons 
and  two  daughters,  whom  she  educated  with  great  care,  and  in 
such  sentiments  of  piety,  that  two  of  them,  Louis  IX.,  and 
Elizabeth,  have  been  beatified  by  the  church  of  Rome.     If  thi 


82  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

honor  be  such  as  no  mortal  deserves,  still,  it  is  a  proof  of  a 
holy  life.  On  the  death  of  her  husband,  Blanche,  in  1226, 
became  regent,  during  the  minority  of  her  son  Louis,  then 
twelve  years  of  age.  In  this  arduous  situation,  when  the  great 
lords  of  the  kingdom  were  affecting  independence,  she  acted 
with  equal  prudence  and  vigor ;  opposing  some  in  arms,  and  gain- 
ing over  others  with  presents,  and  condescensions.  In  educating 
the  young  king,  she  was  charged  with  putting  too  much  into  the 
hands  of  the  clergy,  and  encouraging  that  superstitious  turn, 
which  afterwards  caused  so  many  calamities ;  but  she  proved  an 
excellent  guardian  of  his  virtue,  and  inspired  him  with  rever- 
ence for  religion,  which  never  quitted  him.  When  Louis,  in 
1248,  undertook  his  expedition  to  the  Holy  Land,  Blanche 
was  again  created  regent  of  the  kingdom,  and  governed  with 
great  prudence.  His  unfortunate  defeat  and  imprisonment,  how- 
ever, threw  affairs  into  confusion,  and  so  much  affected  her 
spirits,  that  she  died  in  1252,  to  his  great  grief,  and  to  the  regret 
of  the  whole  kingdom.  She  was,  doubtless,  one  of  the  most 
illustrious  characters  of  her  time;  possessed  both  of  firmness 
and  dexterity  in  the  management  of  affairs,  and  eminent  for 
personal  and  mental  endowments ;  yet  she  was  not  free  from 
haughtiness,  and  inordinate  love  of  power,  and  her  piety  was 
strongly  tinctured  with  the  weakness  of  the  age  in  which  she 
lived. 


Blanche,  a  native  of  Padua,  celebrated  for  her  chastity. 
After  the  death  of  her  husband,  at  the  siege  of  Bassano,  she 
refused  to  gratify  the  passion  of  Acciolin,  the  general  of  the 
enemy ;  and  when  he  offered  violence  to  her  person,  she  threw 
herself  into  her  husband's  tomb,  where  she  was  crushed  to  death 
by  the  falling  of  the  stone  which  covered  the  entrance. 


BoADicEA,  a  British  queen,  in  the  time  of  Nero,  was  wife  to 
Prasutagus,  king  of  the  Iceni,  that  is  Norfolk,  Suffolk,  Cam- 
bridge, and  Huntingdonshire.  Prasutagus,  in  order  to  secure 
the  friendship  and  protection  of  Nero  to  his  wife  and  family, 
left  the  emperor  and  his  daughter  co-heirs.     But  no  sooner  was 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  83 

he  in  his  grave,  than  the  emperor's  officers  seized  upon  nis  effects 
in  their  masters  name.  Boadicea,  widow  of  the  deceased  king, 
strongly  remonstrated  against  these  unjust  proceedings ;  hut  her 
complaints  were  so  far  from  being  heard,  or  her  grievances 
redressed,  that  she  found  herself  exposed  to  farther  wrongs  and 
injuries.  For,  being  a  woman  of  high  spirit,  she  resented  her 
ill  usage  in  such  terms  as  provoked  the  officers  to  treat  her  in 
the  most  barbarous  manner,  and  causing  her  to  be  publicly 
scourged. 

She  excited  the  Britons  to  rage,  and  all,  except  London,  agreed 
to  revolt.  Boadicea  put  herself  at  their  head,  and  while  the 
Roman  general  was  in  the  Isle  of  Mar,  her  followers  put  all  the 
Romans  they  could  find  to  the  sword,  so  that  no  less  than  seventy 
thousand  perished. 

Paulinus,  the  Roman  general,  suddenly  returning,  attacked 
Boadicea ;  and  the  Britons,  when  they  saw  the  Romans  advance 
with  sword  in  hand,  gave  way ;  and  the  Romans,  rushing  on 
them,  gave  no  quarters,  and  put  eighty  thousand  to  the  sword. 
Boadicea  escaped  from  the  hands  of  the  conquerors ;  but  unable 
to  survive  the  remembrance  of  this  terrible  defeat,  either  fell  a 
victim  to  despair  or  poison. 


Lady  Anne  Bacon,  second  daughter  of  Sir  Anthony  Cook, 
was  born  in  1528.  She  was  carefully  educated  with  her  sister, 
Lady  Burleigh,  and  not  less  distinguished  for  her  talents  and 
erudition.  She  was  appointed  governess  to  Edward  VI.,  a  sta- 
tion for  which  she  was  peculiarly  fitted  by  her  superior  endow- 
ments, and  irreproachable  manners.  She  gave  her  hand  to  Sir 
Nicholas  Bacon,  lord  keeper  of  the  great  seal ;  two  sons  were 
the  fruits  of  this  marriage,  Anthony  and  Francis,  whose  know- 
ledge and  genius  rendered  them  the  ornaments  of  their  age,  and 
country.  To  the  care  and  attention  of  their  excellent  mother, 
who,  during  the  early  periods  of  their  youth,  and  childhood, 
when  the  temper  is  most  susceptible,  and  the  first  habits  are  ac- 
quired, instilled  into  their  infant  minds  the  rudiments  and  prin- 
ciples of  science,  and  awakened  the  spirit  of  a  liberal  curiosity, 
their  subsequent  progress  may  be  justly  attributed. 


84  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Lady  Bacon  displayed  at  an  early  age  her  capacity,  applica- 
tion, and  industry,  by  translating  from  the  Italian  of  Bernardine 
Octine,  twenty-five  sermons,  on  the  abstruse  doctrines  of  pre- 
destination and  election.  This  performance  was  published  about 
the  year  1550.  A  circumstance  took  place  soon  after  her  mar- 
riage, which  again  called  forth  her  talents  and  zeal.  The  catho- 
lics of  that  period,  alarmed  at  the  progress  of  the  reformation, 
exerted,  in  attacking  it  and  throwing  an  odium  upon  the  reform- 
ers, all  their  learning  and  activity.  The  council  of  Trent  was 
called  by  pope  Pius  IV.,  to  Avhich  queen  Elizabeth  was  invited. 
The  princes  of  Christendom  pressed  her,  by  their  letters,  to  re- 
ceive and  entertain  the  nuncio,  urging  her,  at  the  same  time,  to 
submit  to  the  council.  Bishop  Jewell  was  employed  on  this 
occasion  to  give  an  account  of  the  measures  taken  in  the  pre- 
ceding parliament,  and  to  retort  upon  the  Romanists,  in  "  An 
Apology  for  the  Church  of  England,"  the  charges  brought 
against  the  reformers.  The  work  of  the  bishop  obtained  great  re- 
putation, but,  being  written  in  Latin,  was  confined  to  the  learned- 
A  translation  was  loudly  called  for  by  the  common  people,  who 
justly  considered  their  own  rights  and  interests  in  the  controversy. 
Lady  Bacon  undertook  to  translate  the  bishop's  "  Apology,"  a 
task  which  she  accomplished  with  fidelity  and  elegance.  She 
sent  a  copy  of  her  work  to  the  primate,  whom  she  considered 
as  most  interested  in  the  safety  of  the  church ;  a  second  copy 
she  presented  to  the  author,  lest,  inadvertently  she  had,  in  any 
respect,  done  injustice  to  his  sentiments.  Her  copy  was  accom- 
panied by  an  epistle  in  Greek,  to  which  the  bishop  replied  in 
the  same  language.  The  translation  was  carefully  examined, 
both  by  the  primate  and  author,  who  found  it  so  chastely  and 
correctly  given,  as  to  stand  in  no  need  of  the  slightest  emenda' 
tion.  The  translator  received  on  this  occasion,  a  letter  from  the 
primate,  full  of  high  and  just  compliments  to  her  talents  and 
erudition. 

Lady  Bacon  survived  her  husband,  and  died  about  the  begin- 
ning of  the  reign  of  James  I.,  at  Gerhamburg,  near  St.  Albans, 
in  Hertfordshire.  She  was  the  mother  of  the  "  greatest,  wisest 
of  mankind." 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  85 

Anna  Letitia  Barbauld,  a  name  long  dear  to  the  admirers 
of  genius,  and  lovers  of  virtue,  was  born  at  the  village  of  Kib- 
worth  Harcourt,  in  Leicestershire,  on  June  20th,  1743,  the  eldest 
child  and  only  daughter  of  John  Aiken,  D.  D.,  and  Jane  his 
wife,  daughter  of  the  Rev.  John  Jennings,  of  Kibworth,  and 
descended  by  her  mother  from  the  ancient  family  of  Wingate, 
of  Harlington,  in  Bedfordshire. 

That  quickness  of  apprehension,  by  which  she  was  eminently 
distinguished,  manifested  itself  from  her  earliest  infancy.  Her 
mother  thus  writes  respecting  her,  in  a  letter  which  is  still  pre- 
served :  "  I  once  indeed  knew  a  little  girl  who  was  as  eager  to 
learn,  as  her  instructors  could  be  to  teach  her,  and  who,  at  two 
years  old,  could  read  sentences  and  little  stories  in  her  wise  hook, 
roundly,  without  spelling,  and  in  half  a  year  more  could  read 
as  well  as  most  women ;  but  I  never  knew  such  another,  and  I 
believe  never  shall." 

Her  education  was  entirely  domestic,  and  principally  conducted 
by  her  excellent  mother,  a  lady  whose  manners  were  polished 
by  the  early  introduction  into  good  company,  which  her  family 
connections  had  procured  her ;  whilst  her  mind  had  been  culti- 
vated and  her  principles  formed,  partly  by  the  instructions  of 
religious  and  enlightened  parents,  partly  by  the  society  of  the 
celebrated  Dr.  Doddridge,  who  was  for  some  years  domesticated 
under  her  paternal  roof 

In  the  middle  of  the  last  century  a  strong  prejudice  still  ex- 
isted against  imparting  to  females  any  tincture  of  classical  learn- 
ing :  and  the  father  of  Miss  Aiken,  proud  as  he  justly  was  of  her 
uncommon  capacity,  long  refused  to  gratify  her  earnest  desire 
of  being  initiated  in  this  kind  of  knowledge.  At  length,  how- 
ever, she  in  some  degree  overcame  his  scruples ;  and  with  his 
assistance  she  enabled  herself  to  read  Latin  authors  with  pleasure 
and  advantage ;  nor  did  she  rest  satisfied  without  gaining  some 
acquaintance  with  the  Greek. 

The  obscure  village  of  Kibworth  was  unable  to  afford  her  a 

single  suitable  companion  of  her  own  sex ;  her  brother,  the  late 

Dr.  Aiken,  was  more  than  three  years  her  junior,  and  as  her 

father  was  at  this  period  master  of  a  school  for  boys,  it  might 

8 


86  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

have  been  apprehended  that  conformity  of  pursuits,  as  well  as 
age,  would  tend  too  nearly  to  assimilate  her  with  the  youth  of 
the  ruder  sex,  by  whom  she  found  herself  encompassed.  But 
maternal  vigilance  eifectually  obviated  this  danger,  by  instilling 
into  her  a  double  portion  of  bashfulness  and  maidenly  reserve  j 
and  she  was  accustomed  to  ascribe  an  uneasy  sense  of  constraint 
in  mixed  society,  which  she  could  not  entirely  shake  off,  to  the 
strictness  and  seclusion  in  which  it  had  thus  become  her  fate  to 
be  educated.  Her  recollections  of  childhood  and  early  youth 
were,  in  fact,  not  associated  with  much  of  the  pleasure  and  gaiety 
usually  attendant  upon  that  period  of  life ;  but  it  must  be  re- 
garded as  a  circumstance  favorable,  rather  than  otherAvise,  to  the 
unfolding  of  her  genius,  to  have  been  thus  left  to  find,  or  make 
in  solitude  her  own  objects  of  interest  and  pursuit.  The  love  of 
rural  nature  sunk  deep  in  her  heart ;  her  vivid  fancy  exerted 
itself  to  color,  to  animate,  and  to  diversify  all  the  objects  which 
surrounded  her;  the  few  but  choice  authors  of  her  father's 
library,  which  she  read  and  re-read,  had  leisure  to  make  their 
full  impression — to  mould  her  sentiments  and  to  form  her  taste ; 
the  spirit  of  devotion,  early  inculcated  upon  her  as  a  duty,  opened 
to  her  by  degrees  an  inexhaustible  source  of  tender  and  sublime 
delight,  and  while  yet  a  child,  she  was  surprised  to  find  herself 
a  poet. 

Just  at  the  period  when  longer  seclusion  might  have  proved 
seriously  injurious  to  her  spirits,  an  invitation,  given  to  her 
learned  and  exemplary  father,  to  undertake  the  office  of  classical 
tutor  in  a  highly  respectable  dissenting  academy  at  Warrington, 
in  Lancashire,  was  the  fortunate  means  of  transplanting  her  to 
a  more  varied  and  animated  scene.  The  removal  took  place  in 
1758,  when  Miss  Aiken  had  just  attained  the  age  of  fifteen,  and 
the  fifteen  years  passed  by  her  at  Warrington,  comprehended 
probably  the  happiest,  as  well  as  the  most  brilliant  portion  of 
her  existence.  She  was  at  this  time  possessed  of  great  beauty, 
distinct  traces  of  which  she  retained  to  the  latest  period  of  life. 
Her  person  was  slender,  her  complexion  exquisitely  fair,  with 
the  bloom  of  perfect  health;  her  features  were  regular  and  elegant, 
and  her  dark  blue  eyes  beamed  with  the  light  of  wit  and  fancy. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  87 

A  solitary  education  had  not  produced  on  her  its  most  frequent 
ill  effects,  pride  and  self  importance ;  the  reserve  of  her  manners 
proceeded  solely  from  bashfulness,  for  her  temper  inclined  her 
strongly  to  friendship  and  to  social  pleasures ;  and  her  active 
imagination  which  represented  all  objects  tinged  with  hues  "un- 
borrowed from  the  sun,"  served  as  a  charm  against  that  disgust 
with  common  characters  and  daily  incidents,  which  so  frequently 
renders  the  conscious  possessor  of  superior  talents  at  once  un- 
amiable  and  unhappy.  Nor  was  she  now  in  want  of  congenial 
associates.  Warrington  academy  included  among  its  tutors,  men 
eminent  both  in  science  and  literature.  With  several  of  these, 
and  especially  with  Dr.  Priestly,  and  Dr.  Enfield,  and  their 
families,  she  formed  sincere  and  lasting  friendships.  The  elder 
and  more  accomplished  among  the  students  composed  an  agree- 
able part  of  the  same  society,  and  its  animation  was  increased 
by  a  mixture  of  young  ladies,  either  residents  in  the  town  or 
occasional  visitors,  several  of  whom  were  equally  distinguished 
for  personal  charms,  for  amiable  manners,  and  cultivated  minds. 
The  rising  institution,  which  flourished  for  several  years  in  high 
reputation,  diflused  a  classic  air  over  all  connected  with  it.  Miss 
Aiken,  as  was  natural,  took  a  warm  interest  in  its  success,  and 
no  academic  has  ever  celebrated  his  alma  mater  in  nobler  strains, 
or  with  a  more  filial  affection,  than  she  has  manifested  in  that 
portion  of  her  early  and  beautiful  poem,  "The  Invitation",  where 
her  theme  is,  this  "  nursery  of  men  for  future  years." 

About  the  close  of  the  year  1771,  her  brother,  after  several 
years  of  absence,  returned  to  establish  himself  in  his  profession, 
at  Warrington  ;  an  event  equally  welcome  to  her  feelings,  and 
propitious  to  her  literary  progress.  In  him  she  possessed  a 
friend,  with  discernment  to  recognize  the  stamp  of  genius  in  her 
productions  and  anticipate  their  fame,  combined  with  zeal  and 
courage  sufficient  to  vanquish  her  reluctance  to  appear  before 
the  public  in  the  character  of  an  author.  By  his  persuasion  and 
assistance,  her  poems  were  selected,  revised,  and  arranged  for 
publication ;  and  when  all  these  preparations  were  completed, 
finding  that  she  still  hesitated  and  lingered,  like  the  parent  bird 
who  pushes  off  their  young  to  its  first  flight,  he  procured  the 


88  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

paper,  and  set  the  press  to  work,  on  his  own  authority.  The 
result  more  than  justified  his  confidence  of  her  success ;  four 
editions  of  the  work  were  called  for  within  the  year  of  publica- 
tion, 1773;  compliments  and  congratulations  poured  in  from  all 
quarters ;  and  even  the  periodical  critics  greeted  her  muse  with 
unmixed  applause. 

She  was  not  permitted  to  repose  upon  her  laurels :  her  brother, 
who  possessed  all  the  activity  and  spirit  of  literary  enterprise,  in 
which  she  was  deficient,  now  urged  her  to  collect  her  prose 
pieces,  and  to  join  him  in  forming  a  small  volume,  which  also 
appeared  in  the  year  1773,  under  the  title  of  "Miscellaneous 
pieces,  in  prose,  by  J.  and  A.  S.  Aiken."  These  likewise  met 
with  much  notice  and  approbation,  and  have  been  several  times 
reprinted. 

In  1774,  Miss  Aiken  was  married  to  the  Rev.  Rochemont 
Barbauld,  a  descendant  of  French  protestants.  Mr.  Barbauld 
soon  after  accepted  the  charge  of  a  dissenting  congregation  at 
Palgrove,  near  Diss,  and  announced  his  intention  of  opening  a 
boarding  school  at  the  neighboring  village  of  Palgrove,  in 
Suffolk. 

The  rapid  and  uninterrupted  success  which  crowned  this 
undertaking,  was  doubtless  in  a  great  measure  owing  to  the  lite- 
rarj^  reputation  attached  to  the  name  of  Mrs.  Barbauld,  and  to 
her  active  participation  with  her  husband  in  the  task  of  instruc- 
tion. It  fortunately  happened  that  two  of  the  eight  pupils,  with 
which  Palgrove  school  commenced,  were  endowed  with  abilities 
worthy  of  the  culture  which  such  an  instructress  could  alone 
bestow.  One  of  them,  William  Taylor,  Esq.,  of  Norwich, 
known  by  his  "  English  Synonyms,"  his  exquisite  "  Iphgenia 
in  Tauris,"  from  the  German,  his  "Leonara,"  from  Burger,  and 
many  other  fruits  of  genius  and  extensive  learning,  has  con- 
stantly acknowledged  her,  with  pride  and  affection,  for  the 
"  mother  of  his  mind ;"  and  in  a  biographical  notice  prefixed  to 
the  collective  work  of  Frank  Sayers,  M.  D.,  of  the  same  city, 
author  of  the  "  Dramatic  Sketches  of  Northern  Mythology,"  he 
has  thus  recorded  the  congenial  sentiments  of  his  friend. 
"Among  the  instructions  bestowed  at  Palgrove,  Dr.  Sayers  has 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  89 

repeatedly  observed  to  me,  that  he  most  valued  the  lessons  of 
English  composition,  superintended  by  Mrs.  Barbauld.  On 
Wednesdays  and  Saturdays,  the  boys  were  called,  in  separate 
classes,  to  her  apartment ;  she  read  a  fable,  a  short  story,  or  a 
moral  essay  to  them,  aloud,  and  then  sent  them  back  into  the 
school-room  to  write  it  out  on  their  slates,  in  their  own  words. 
Each  exercise  was  separately  overlooked  by  her ;  the  faults  of 
grammar  were  obliterated,  the  vulgarisms  were  chastised,  the 
idle  epithets  were  cancelled,  and  a  distinct  reason  was  always 
assigned  for  every  correction ;  so  that  the  arts  of  inditing  and 
criticising  were,  in  some  degree,  learned  together.  Many  a  lad 
from  the  great  schools,  who  excels  in  Latin  and  Greek,  can- 
not write  properly  a  vernacular  letter,  for  want  of  some  such 
discipline. 

The  department  of  geography  was  also  undertaken  by  Mrs. 
Barbauld  ;  and  she  relieved  the  dryness  of  a  study,  seldom  ren- 
dered interesting  to  children,  by  so  many  lively  strokes  of 
description,  and  such  luminous  and  attractive  views  of  the  con- 
nexion of  this  branch  of  knowledge  with  the  revolutions  of 
empires,  with  national  manners,  and  with  the  natural  history  of 
animals,  that  these  impressive  lectures  were  always  remembered, 
by  her  auditors  less  among  their  tasks  than  their  pleasures. 

In  1775,  Mrs.  Barbauld  committed  to  the  press  a  small  vol- 
ume, entitled  "  Devotional  Pieces,"  compiled  from  the  Psalms  of 
David,  with  "  Thoughts  on  the  Devotional  Taste,  and  on  Sects 
and  Establishments."  As  a  selection  it  did  not  meet  with  great 
success ;  nor  did  the  essay  escape  without  some  animadversion. 
It  was  afterwards  separated  from  the  Psalms  and  reprinted  with 
the  "  Miscellaneous  Pieces." 

The  union  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barbauld  proved  unfruitful,  and 
they  sought  to  fill  the  void,  of  which,  in  the  midst  of  their  busy 
avocations,  they  were  still  sensible,  by  the  adoption  of  a  son  out 
of  the  family  of  Dr.  Aiken.  They  received  the  child  when  he 
was  about  two  years  of  age,  and  his  education  became  a  leading 
object  in  Mrs.  Barbauld' s  attention.  For  the  use  of  her  little 
Charles,  she  composed  those  "Early  Lessons,"  which  have  justly 

gained  for  her  the  reverence  and  love  of  both  parents  and  chil- 

8* 


90  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

dren ;  a  work,  which  may  safely  be  asserted,  formed  an  era  in 
the  art  of  early  instruction,  and  stands  yet  unrivalled  among  un- 
numbered imitations.  It  was  for  the  benefit  of  the  younger  class 
in  school,  that  her  "  Hymns  in  Prose  for  Children"  were  written, 
in  which  it  was  her  peculiar  object,  (to  use  her  own  words  in  the 
preface.)  "to  impress  devotional  feelings,  as  early  as  possible,  on 
the  infant  mind ;  to  impress  them  by  connecting  religion  with  a 
variety  of  sensible  objects,  with  all  that  he  sees,  all  that  he  hears, 
all  that  affects  his  young  mind  with  wonder  or  delight,  and  thus, 
by  deep,  strong,  and  permanent  associations,  to  lay  the  best 
foundation  for  practical  devotion  in  future  life." 

None  of  her  works  is  a  fairer  monument  than  this,  of  the 
elevation  of  her  soul  and  the  brightness  of  her  genius.  While 
discarding  the  aid  of  verse,  she  every  where  bursts  forth  into 
poetry ;  while  stooping  to  the  comprehension  of  infancy,  she 
had  produced  a  precious  manual  of  devotion,  founded  on  the 
contemplation  of  nature,  fitted  to  delight  the  taste,  and  warm  the 
piety  of  the  most  accomplished  minds  and  finest  spirits. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barbauld  frequently  visited  London  during  their 
school  vacations.  At  the  splendid  mansion  of  her  early  and 
constant  admirer,  Mrs.  Montague,  Mrs.  Barbauld  beheld  in  per- 
fection, the  imposing  union  of  literature  and  fashion.  Under  the 
humbler  roof  of  her  friend  and  publisher,  the  late  worthy  Joseph 
Johnson,  of  St.  Paul's  church  yard,  she  tasted,  perhaps  with 
higher  relish,  "  the  feast  of  reason  and  the  flow  of  soul,"  in  a 
chosen  knot  of  lettered  equals. 

At  the  end  of  eleven  years,  finding  their  health  and  spirits  so 
much  impaired,  they  determined  on  quitting  Palgrove,  and 
allowing  themselves  an  interval  of  complete  relaxation,  before 
they  should  again  embark  in  any  scheme  of  active  life.  Accord- 
ingly, in  the  summer  of  1785,  they  embarked  at  Calais;  and 
after  extending  their  travels  as  far  as  Geneva,  returned  to  winter 
in  the  south  of  France.  In  the  spring  they  again  bent  their 
course  northward,  and  after  a  leisurely  survey  of  Paris,  returned 
to  London  in  the  month  of  June,  17^6.  Mr.  B.,  having  been 
elected  pastor  of  a  small  dissenting  congregation  at  Hampstead, 
they  fixed  themselves  in  that  agreeable  village  for  several  years. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  91 

In  1790,  the  rejection  of  a  bill  for  the  repeal  of  the  Corpora- 
tion and  Test  Acts,  called  forth  her  eloquent  and  indignant 
address  to  the  opposers  of  this  repeal ;  her  poetical  epistle  to 
Mr.  Wilberforce,  on  the  rejection  of  the  bill  for  abolishing  the 
Slave  Trade,  was  written  in  1791.  The  next  year  produced  her 
"  Remarks  on  Mr.  Gilbert  Wakefield's  Inquiry  into  the  expediency 
and  propriety  of  public  or  social  Worship  ;"  and  her  "  Sins  of  the 
Government,  Sins  of  the  Nation,  or  a  Discourse  for  the  Fast," 
appeared  in  1793.  She  wrote  two  critical  essays  ;  one  prefixed 
to  Akenside's  "  Pleasures  of  Imagination,"  the  other  to  the  odes 
of  Collins. 

In  1802,  Mr.  Barbauld  accepted  an  invitation  to  become  pastor 
of  the  congregation,  (formerly  Dr.  Price's,)  at  Newington  Green, 
and  quitting  Hampstead,  they  took  up  their  abode  in  the  village 
of  Stoke  Newington.  The  sole  motive  for  this  removal,  which 
separated  them  from  friends  to  whom  they  were  cordially  attach- 
ed, Avas  the  mutual  desire  of  Dr.  Aiken  and  Mrs.  Barbauld,  to 
pass  the  closing  period  of  their  lives  in  that  near  neighborhood 
which  admits  of  the  dai]}?-,  and  almost  hourly  intercourses  of 
affection.  Here  they  passed  the  evening  of  their  lives,  and  it 
proved  a  long,  though  by  no  means  an  unclouded  one  ;  twenty 
years  elapsed  before  the  hand  of  death  sundered  this  fraternal 
pair. 

In  1804  she  offered  to  the  public  a  "  Selection  from  the  Spec- 
tator, Tattler,  Guardian,  and  Freeholder,  with  a  Preliminary 
Essay,"  in  which  she  gave  her  name.  This  delightful  piece 
may  be  regarded  as  the  most  successful  of  her  efforts  in  literary 
criticism ;  and  that  it  should  be  so,  is  accounted  for  by  the  fact, 
that  there  are  many  sterling  parts  of  resemblance  between  her 
genius  and  that  of  Addison. 

On  the  11th  of  November,  1808,  Mr.  Barbauld  died  ;  and  she 
had  the  fortitude  to  seek  relief  from  dejection  in  literary  occupa- 
tion ;  and  incapable  as  yet  of  any  stronger  efibrt  she  consented 
to  edit  a  collection  of  the  British  Novelists,  which  issued  from 
the  press  in  181G.  In  the  following  year  she  compiled  for  the 
use  of  young  ladies  an  agreeable  collection  of  verse  and  prose, 
entitled    the   "Female   Speaker,"  and   shortly   after   produced 


92  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

*'  Eighteen  Hundred  and  Eleven,"  the  longest,  and  perhaps  the 
most  highly  finished,  of  all  her  poems. 

This  was  the  last  of  Mrs.  Barbauld's  separate  publications. 
No  incident  Avorthy  of  mention  henceforth  occurred  to  break  the 
uniformity  of  her  existence.  She  gave  up  all  distant  journeys ; 
and,  confined  at  home,  to  a  narrow  circle  of  connexions  and 
acquaintances,  she  suffered  life  to  slide  away,  as  it  were,  at  its 
own  pace, 

"Nor  shook  the  outhasting  sands,  nor  bid  them  stay." 

An  asthmatic  complaint,  which  was  slowly  undermining  her 
excellent  constitution,  more  and  more  indisposed  her  for  any 
considerable  exertion  either  of  mind  or  body.  Her  powers  of 
conversation  suffered  little  declension  to  the  last,  although  her 
memory  of  recent  circumstances  became  somewhat  impaired. 

A  gentle  and  scarcely  perceptible  decline  was  now  sloping 
for  herself  the  passage  to  the  tomb ;  she  felt  and  hailed  its 
progress  as  a  release  from  languor  and  infirmity ;  a  passport 
to  another  and  higher  state  of  being.  Her  friends,  however, 
flattered  themselves  that  they  might  continue  to  enjoy  her  yet  a 
little  while  longer ;  and  she  had  consented  to  remove  under  the 
roof  of  her  adopted  son,  that  his  affectionate  attentions  and  those 
of  his  family  might  be  the  solace  of  every  remaining  hour.  But 
Providence  had  ordained  it  otherwise :  she  quitted  indeed  her 
own  house,  but  whilst  on  a  visit  at  the  neighboring  one  of 
Mrs.  Aiken,  her  sister-in-law,  the  constant  and  beloved  friend  of 
nearly  her  whole  life,  her  bodily  powers  gave  Avay  almost  sud- 
denly ;  and  after  lingering  a  few  days,  on  the  morning  of  March 
9th,  1825,  she  expired  without  a  struggle,  in  the  eighty -second 
year  of  her  age. 

To  claim  for  this  distinguished  woman  the  praise  of  purity 
and  elevation  of  mind  may  well  appear  surperfiuous.  Her  edu- 
cation and  connexions,  the  course  of  her  life,  the  whole  tenor  of 
her  writings,  bear  abundant  testimony  to  this  part  of  her  cha- 
racter. It  is  a  higher,  or  at  least  a  rarer  commendation  to  add, 
that  no  one  ever  better  loved  "  a  sister's  praise,"  even  that  of 
such  sisters  as  might  have  been  peculiarly  regarded  in  the  light 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  93 

of  rivals.  She  was  acquainted  with  ahuost  all  the  female  wri- 
ters of  her  time ;  and  there  was  not  one  of  the  number  whom 
she  failed  frequently  to  mention  in  terms  of  admiration,  esteem, 
and  affection,  whether  in  conversation,  in  letters  to  her  friends, 
or  in  print.  To  humbler  aspirants  in  the  career  of  letters, 
who  often  applied  to  her  for  advice  or  assistance,  she  was  inva- 
riably courteous,  and  in  many  instances  essentially  serviceable. 
The  sight  of  youth  and  beauty  was  peculiarly  gratifying  to  her 
fancy  and  her  feelings ;  and  children  and  young  persons,  espe- 
cially females,  were  accordingly  large  sharers  in  her  benevo- 
lence. She  loved  their  society,  and  would  often  invite  them  to 
pass  weeks  or  months  in  her  house,  when  she  spared  no  pains 
to  amuse  and  instruct  them ;  and  she  seldom  failed,  after  they 
had  quitted  her,  to  recall  herself  from  time  to  time,  to  their 
recollection,  by  affectionate  and  playful  letters,  or  welcome 
presents. 

In  the  conjugal  relation,  her  conduct  was  guided  by  the  high- 
est principles  of  love  and  duty.  As  a  sister,  the  uninterrupted 
flow  of  her  affection,  manifested  by  numberless  tokens  of  love, 
not  alone  to  her  brother,  but  to  every  member  of  his  family, 
w^ll  ever  be  recalled  by  them  with  emotions  of  tenderness, 
respect,  and  gratitude.  She  passed  through  a  long  life  without 
having  dropped,  it  is  believed,  a  single  friendship,  and  without 
having  drawn  upon  herself  a  single  enmity  which  could  pro- 
perly be  called  personal. 


Laura  Battiferi,  an  Italian  lady  of  distinguished  learning 
and  beauty,  the  daughter  of  John  Antony  Battiferi,  was  born  in 
Urbino,  in  1513.  She  married  Bartholomew  Ammanati,  the 
celebrated  artist,  spent  her  whole  life  in  the  study  of  polite  litera- 
ture, and  is  esteemed  one  of  the  best  Italian  poets  of  her  time. 
The  principal  merit  of  her  poems  consists  of  a  noble  elevation, 
their  being  filled  with,  excellent  morals,  and  their  breathing  a 
spirit  of  piety.  The  academy  of  Intronati,  at  Sienna,  chose  her 
one  of  their  members.  She  died  in  November,  1589,  aged 
seventy-six.  Her  name  is  held  in  the  highest  veneration  among 
the  literati  of  Italy. 


94  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

Laura  Maria  Catherina  Bassi,  the  wife  of  Dr.  Joseph 
Verati,  a  very  ingenious  lady,  was  born  in   1712,  and  died  at 
Bologna,  of  which  she  was  a  native,  in  1778.     Such  was  her 
acknowledged  talents  and  learning,  that  in  1733  she  was  honor- 
ed with  a  Doctor's  degree,  after  having  disputed  publicly  in 
Latin ;  and  her  reputation  became  afterwards  completely  esta- 
blished by  a  course  of  lectures  on  experimental  philosophy, 
which  she  delivered  from   1748  to  the  time  of  her  death.     Ma- 
dame de  Boccage  in  her  "Letters  from  Italy,"  informs  us,  that 
she  attended  one  of  those  lectures,  in  which  Madame  Bassi  de- 
veloped the  phenomena  of  irritability,  with  precision  and  depth. 
The  greater  part  of  the  literati  of  Europe,  to  whom  she  was 
well  known,  bore  testimony  to  her  learning,  particularly,  in  the 
Greek,  Latin,  French  and  Italian ;  nor  was  she  less  for  her  nu- 
merous exertions  of  charity  to  the  poor,  and  the  orphan.     She 
abstained    from  publishing   any  thing,  but  was  the  theme  of 
much  poetical  praise.     So  many  scholars  of  that  day  paid  tri- 
butes to  her  worth,  that  a  collection  of  them  was  made  and 
printed,  with  her  portrait,  about  the  time  she  was  made  Doctor 
of  Philosophy,  in  1732,  when  she  was  only  twenty  years  of  age. 
This  volume  was  inscribed  to  her  as  Doctor  of  Philosophy,  and 
a  member  of  the  Academic  Institute,  with  a  beautiful  allusion  to 
Petrarch's  Laura,  in  Latin,  intimating  the  Laura  of  Avignon 
was  made  great  by  the  genius  and  song  of  the  bard,  but  the 
Laura  of  Bologna  by  her  eloquence  and  a  Petrarchian  mind. 
Such  honors  would  awaken  the  same   ambition  now,  if  oui 
patrons  of  learning  would  bring  the  female  mind  to  the  test,  and 
produce  the  same  effects. 


Berenace,  said  to  have  been  the  only  woman  that  was  the 
daughter,  sister,  and  mother  of  victors  at  the  Olympic  games,  and 
therefore  the  only  woman  permitted  to  see  the  games.  Pliny,  and 
several  other  Roman  historians,  mention  this  fortunate  woman. 


Anne  Boleyn,  the  vicissitudes  of  whose  fortunes  have  ren- 
dered her  name  celebrated,  descended,  on  the  side  of  her  mother, 
from  the  duke  of  Norfolk,  whose  daughter  her  father.  Sir  Tho- 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  95 

mas  Boleyn,  had  espoused.  Anne  was  born  in  1507,  and  car- 
ried to  France  at  seven  years  of  age,  by  the  sister  of  Henry  VIII. , 
who  was  given  in  marriage  to  Louis  XII.  After  the  death  of 
Louis,  his  widow  returned  to  her  native  country,  but  Anne  re- 
mained in  France,  in  the  service  of  Claudia,  wife  of  Francis  I.; 
and  after  her  decease,  with  the  duchess  of  Alencon,  a  princess 
of  singular  merit.  The  beauty  and  accomplishments  of  Anne, 
attracted,  even  at  a  very*  early  age,  general  admiration  at  the 
French  court. 

She  returned  to  England  about  the  time  when  scruples  were 
first  entertained  by  Henry  VIII.,  respecting  the  legality  of  his 
marriage  with  the  betrothed  wife  and  widow  of  his  brother, 
Catharine  of  Arragon.  In  his  visits  to  the  queen,  to  whom  Anne 
Boleyn  became  maid  of  honor,  Henry  had  an  opportunity  of 
observing  her  beauty  and  captivating  manners.  Anne  quickly 
perceived  her  influence  over  the  heart  of  the  monarch,  whose 
passion,  either  from  principle  or  policy,  she  resolutely  resisted. 
The  enamored  Henry,  despairing  of  succeeding  with  the  lady 
but  upon  honorable  terms,  was,  by  her  conduct,  stimulated  to 
redouble  his  eflx)rts  to  procure  a  release  from  his  former  engage- 
ments. For  this  purpose,  he  resolved  on  making  application  to 
the  court  of  Rome. 

The  impatience  of  Henry  suffered  him  not  to  wait  for  the 
dissolutioQ  of  his  marriage  with  Catharine ;  a  private  ceremony 
united  him  with  Anne-Boleyn  on  the  14th  of  November,  1532. 
The  marriage  was  made  public  on  Easter  eve,  1533,  when  Anne 
was  declared  queen  of  England,  and  crowned  the  first  of  the  fol- 
lowing June.  On  the  seventh  of  the  ensuing  September,  the  new 
queen  was  delivered  of  a  daughter,  (afterwards  queen  Elizabeth) 
on  whom  was  conferred  the  title  of  princess  of  Wales. 

The  affection  of  the  king  for  his  new  queen,  seemed,  for  a 
time,  to  increase  rather  than  diminish  by  possession ;  but,  in 
about  six  years  his  love  began  to  languish,  and  visibly  decay. 
The  enemies  of  Anne,  who  v*^ere  the  first  to  perceive  the  change, 
eagerly  sought  to  widen  the  breach ;  and  jealousy  was  the  en- 
gine which  they  employed  for  her  destruction,  with  the  greatest 
success. 


96  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

No  real  stigma  has  been  thrown  on  the  conduct  of  Anne,  but 
a  certain  levity  of  spirits  and  gaiety  of  character,  which  she  had 
probably  acquired  from  her  education  in  France,  rendered  her 
manners  unguarded.  She  was  more  vain  than  proud,  and  took 
a  coquettish  pleasure  in  beholding  the  effects  of  her  charms,  and 
indulged  herself  in  an  easy  familiarity  with  those  who  had 
formerly  been  her  equals.  Her  popular  manners  offended  the 
dignity  of  Henry ;  if  the  lover  had  b^en  blind  to  the  foibles  of 
his  mistress,  the  husband  became  but  too  quick-sighted  to  the  in- 
discretions of  his  wife.  Malignant  persons  misinterpreted  the 
innocent  freedom  of  the  queen,  and  aggravated  the  suspicions 
of  Henry. 

A  passion  for  a  new  object  had  vanquished,  in  the  heart  of  a 
capricious  despot,  the  small  remains  of  his  affection  for  Anne, 
who  was  supplanted  in  the  affections  of  her  husband  by  Jane, 
daughter  of  Sir  John  Seymour,  a  young  lady  of  singular  beauty 
and  merit.  By  the  desire  of  raising  to  his  bed  and  throne  the 
new  object  of  his  fancy,  he  was  induced  to  lend  an  ear  to  every 
suggestion,  however  lightly  founded,  that  tended  to  criminate 
the  unhappy  Anne. 

His  jealousy,  over  which  he  secretly  brooded,  first  manifested 
itself  at  a  tournament  at  Greenwich,  where  the  queen,  having 
let  fall  her  handkerchief,  he  construed  this  accident  into  a  signal 
of  gallantry,  and  retiring  instantly  from  the  place,  sent  orders  to 
confine  her  to  her  chamber.  Five  gentlemen,  charged  with  being 
her  paramours,  were  arrested,  and  thrown  into  prison.  Anne, 
astonished  at  this  violence  and  injustice,  on  an  occasion  so  slight 
and  inadequate,  was  willing  to  persuade  herself  that  the  king 
meant  merely  to  try  her ;  but  convinced  at  length,  that  he  was 
but  too  much  in  earnest,  she  reflected  seriously  on  his  inflexi- 
ble temper,  and  prepared  herself  for  what  was  to  ensue. 

She  was  the  next  day  sent  to  the  Tower,  and  on  her  way 
thither,  informed  of  what  she  had  till  then  been  unconscious,  the 
crimes  and  misdemeanors  alledged  against  her.  As  she  entered 
the  prison,  she  fell  on  her  knees,  and  called  God  to  witness  how 
guiltless  she  was  of  the  offences  imputed  to  her  charge. 

The  sweetness  and  beneficence  of  Anne's  temper,  had,  during 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  97 

her  prosperity  made  her  numberless  friends ;  but  in  her  falling 
fortunes,  no  one  even  attempted  to  interpose  between  her  and  the 
fliry  of  the  king ;  she,  whose  appearance  had  dressed  every  face 
in  smiles,  was  now  abandoned,  unpitied  and  alone,  to  her  adverse 
destiny.  Anne  addressed  to  her  husband  a  letter  from  the  Tower, 
full  of  protestations  of  her  innocence ;  of  which  the  following 
is  the  conclusion: 

"  If  you  have  already  determined  of  me,  and  that  my  death 
not  only,  but  an  infamous  slander,  must  bring  you  the  enjoying 
of  your  desired  happiness,  then  I  desire  of  God  that  he  will 
pardon  your  great  sin  therein,  and  likewise  mine  enemies,  the 
instruments  thereof;  and  that  he  will  not  call  ^'^ou  to  a  strict 
account  for  your  unprincely  usage  of  me,  at  his  general  judg- 
ment-seat, where  both  you  and  myself  must  shortly  appear,  and 
in  whose  judgment  I  doubt  not,  (whatsoever  the  world  may  think 
of  me,)  mine  innocence  shall  be  openly  known,  and  sufficiently 
cleared. 

"  My  last,  and  onl}'-  request  shall  be,  that  myself  may  only 
bear  the  burden  of  your  grace's  displeasure,  and  that  it  may  not 
touch  the  innocent  souls  of  those  poor  gentlemen,  who  (as  I 
understand,)  are  likewise  in  strait  confinement  for  my  sake.  If 
ever  I  have  found  favor  in  your  sight,  if  ever  the  name  of  Anne 
Boleyn  hath  been  pleasing  to  your  ears,  then  let  me  obtain  this 
request,  and  I  will  so  leave  to  trouble  your  grace  any  farther, 
with  mine  earnest  prayers  to  the  Trinity,  to  have  your  grace  in 
his  good  keeping,  and  to  direct  you  in  all  your  actions.  From 
my  doleful  prison  in  the  tower,  this  sixth  of  May, 

"  Your  most  loyal  and  ever  faithful  wife, 

"  Anne  Boleyn." 

This  address,  so  pathetic  and  eloquent,  failed  to  touch  the  heart 
of  a  tyrant,  which  licentious  and  selfish  gratification  had  steeled. 
The  gentlemen  who  were  imprisoned  on  her  account,  although 
no  proof  of  their  guilt  was  made  out,  were  condemned  and 
executed.  The  queen  and  her  brother,  the  viscount  Rocheford, 
were  tried  by  a  jury  of  peers  ;  their  uncle,  and  implacable  enemy, 
the  duke  of  Norfolk,  presiding  as  lord  high  steward. 


98  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Anne,  though  unassisted  by  counsel,  defended  herself  with  so 
much  clearness  and  presence  of  mind,  that  the  spectators  unani- 
mously believed  her  to  be  guiltless.  Judgment  was,  however, 
passed  by  the  court  both  against  her  and  her  brother ;  she  was 
sentenced  by  the  verdict  to  be  beheaded  or  burned,  according 
to  the  king's  pleasure.  •'  O  Father,"  said  she,  lifting  up  her 
eyes  when  this  dreadful  sentence  was  pronounced,  "  O  Creator, 
thou  who  art  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life,  thou  knowest 
that  I  have  not  deserved  this  death !"  Then,  turning  to  the 
judges,  she  pathetically  declared  her  innocence.  In  her  last 
message  to  the  king,  she  thanked  him  for  having  advanced  her 
from  private  life  to  the  throne,  and  now,  since  he  could  raise 
her  no  higher  in  this  world,  he  was  sending  her  to  heaven.  She 
earnestly  recommended  her  daughter  to  his  care,  and  renewed 
her  protestations  of  innocence  and  fidelity.  At  the  scaffold  she 
prayed  for  the  king,  and  said  to  the  lieutenant  of  the  tower, 
"the  executioner  is,  I  hear,  very  expert,  and  my  neck,  (grasping 
it  with  her  hand,  and  laughing  heartily,)  is  very  slender."  She 
met  death  with  firmness,  and  her  body  was  thrown  negligently 
into  a  common  elm  chest,  made  to  hold  arrows,  and  buried  in 
the  tower. 


Jane  De  Belleville,  was  wife  of  Oliver  III.,  lord  of  Clisson. 
Philip  de  Valois,  king  of  France,  having  caused  her  husband 
to  be  beheaded,  in  1343,  on  unauthenticated  suspicion  of  cor- 
respondence with  England,  Jane,  burning  with  revenge,  sent 
her  son,  but  twelve  years  of  age,  secretly  to  London ;  and  having 
no  more  fear  for  him,  sold  her  jewels,  armed  three  vessels,  and 
with  them  assailed  all  the  French  she  met  with.  The  new 
corsair  made  descents  in  Normandy,  and  took  their  castles ;  and 
the  inhabitants  of  the  villages  saw  frequently,  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  women  in  Europe,  with  a  sword  in  one  hand,  and  a 
flambeau  in  the  other,  enforce,  with  inhuman  pleasure,  the  hor- 
rors of  her  cruel  and  misplaced  revenge. 


Catherine   Brown,  a  half-blooded   Cherokee,  was  born 
about  the  year  1800,  at  Willis  Valley,  in  Alabama.     It  was  a 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  99 

romantic  country  where  she  first  drew  her  breath,  and  she 
seems  to  have  acquired  a  natural  taste  for  fine  scenery.  Her 
father's  name,  in  the  Indian  language,  was  Yau-nu-gung-yah-ski, 
which  is  "  drowned  by  a  bear."  His  English  name,  from  his 
father,  was  John  Brown.  Her  mother's  name  was  Tsa-luh,  in 
the  Cherokee.  Her  English  name  was  Sarah.  They  were  people 
of  property,  and  far  above  the  level  of  their  race,  but  still  had  no 
education,  they  could  not  speak  a  word  of  English.  In  1816, 
the  American  Board  of  Foreign  Missions,  sent  the  Rev.  Cyrus 
Kingsbury  to  the  Cherokee  nation,  for  permission  to  establish  a 
school  in  their  territory.  This  was  granted,  and  a  school  opened 
at  Chickamaugah,  within  the  territory  of  Tennessee.  Cathe- 
rine had  heard  of  the  school,  although  living  at  the  distance  of 
a  hundred  miles.  She  had  learned  to  speak  English,  by  resi- 
ding at  the  house  of  a  Cherokee  friend,  and  could  read  in  words 
of  one  syllable.  She  was  now  seventeen  years  of  age,  possess- 
ing very  fine  features,  and  of  roseate  complexion.  She  was 
decidedly  the  first  of  Cherokee  beauties.  She  was  modest, 
gentle  and  virtuous,  with  a  sweet  and  affectionate  disposition. 
From  her  wealth  and  beauty,  she  had  been  indulged  as  the  pride 
of  her  parents ;  but  she  was  the  most  docile  of  all  the  missionary 
pupils.  Her  progress  was  wonderfully  rapid.  In  three  months 
she  learned  to  read  and  write.  This  exceeds  the  progress  of 
any  one  on  record,  in  this  or  any  other  country.  She  soon  became 
serious,  and  then  religious;  and  was  baptised  in  January,  1818. 
In  June,  1820,  she  undertook  to  teach  a  school  at  Creek-path,  near 
lier  father's  house.  She  showed  the  greatest  zeal  in  the  cause  of 
enlightening  her  country  women ;  for  those  of  all  ages  came  to 
learn  something  of  her.  She  established  religious  exercises  in 
ht»r  father's  house,  and  brought  many  to  Christianity.  She  was 
not  contented  with  the  measure  of  information  she  had  acquired, 
but  intended  to  push  her  studies  into  higher  branches  of  know- 
ledge, which  she  knew  to  exist ;  but  while  she  was  contemplating 
gi  cat  things  for  herself  and  her  nation,  her  health  began  to 
decline.  She  had  probably  injured  herself  by  too  close  applica- 
tion to  her  studies.  The  change  from  flying  through  the  groves 
and  paddling  the  canoe,  to  such  a  sedentary  life,  which  she  must 


100  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

have  led,  in  acquiring  so  much  knowledge  in  so  short  a  time, 
would  have  naturally  undermined  the  strongest  constitution.  In 
her  sickness  she  discovered  the  greatest  resignation,  and  the 
most  exalted  piety.  She  had  made  a  deep  impression  on  the 
honest  hearts  of  her  people ;  and  they  watched  the  progress  of 
her  disease  with  most  poignant  anxiety.  She  died  July  18th, 
1 823,  aged  twenty-three,  and  was  buried  at  Creek-path,  by  the 
side  of  her  brother  John,  who  had  died  the  preceeding  year, 
having,  through  her  instrumentality,  embraced  the  Christian 
religion.  She  would  have  been,  in  the  early  ages  of  Chris- 
tianity, ranked  with  saints,  and  martyrs ;  and  at  this  time,  de- 
serves to  be  held  in  sweet  remembrance.  By  her  conversion, 
her  parents  became  of  the  household  of  the  faithful ;  and  a  mis- 
sion was  established  at  Creek-path,  which  has  been  productive 
of  much  good.  Catharine  Brown  must  be  ranked  with  Poca- 
hontas, the  loveliest  daughter  of  the  wilderness  ;  both  forming 
the  highest  proof  that  the  children  of  the  forest  have  talents,  and 
strong  and  noble  affections;  and  only  require  instruction  to  rival 
those  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  blood.  When  we  discover  such 
talents  and  virtues  in  the  aborigines,  the  philanthropist,  as  well 
as  the  Christian,  mourns  to  think  that  this  race  of  beings  will 
soon  disappear  in  our  country.  They  are  passing  away  as  the 
summer  cloud ;  but  we  must  console  ourselves  that  the  hand  of 
God  is  in  this. 


Anna  Bates,  wife  of  Joshua  Bates,  D.  D.,  president  of 
Middlebury  College,  was  the  daughter  of  Deacon  N.  Poor,  of 
Andover,  in  Massachusetts;  she  was  born  about  the  year  1783 
and  resided  chiefly  in  that  place.  She  was  the  charm  of  th(» 
social  circle  in  that  delightful  town  ;  which  has  since  been  se- 
lected for  the  site  of  a  theological  seminary,  all  things  consider- 
ed, the  first  in  the  United  States.  Miss  Poor  had  several  sisters 
older  than  herself,  and  one  younger.  Her  father's  house  was 
a  pleasant  place,  for  those  who  were  engaged  in  literary  pur- 
suits, to  spend  a  social  evening.  They  had  a  kind  reception, 
and  were  sure  to  have  an  hour's  improving  conversation.  Sub- 
jects of  a  literary  nature  were  discussed,  without  staidness  or 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY,  101 

controversy.  It  was  a  family  circle  which  every  one  in  the 
Keighborhood  was  happy  in  being  permitted  to  enter.  Miss 
l*oor,  her  elder  sisters  being  married,  met  her  friends  with  a 
sweet  smile,  and  where  she  was,  all  were  sure  to  be  happy. 

In  the  year  1804,  she  was  married  to  Mr.  Bates,  who  had 
lieen  an  instructor  in  Phillip's  Andover  Academy,  and  after- 
■NV^ards  a  resident  in  the  town  as  a  student  in  divinity,  but  was 
at  the  time  of  their  union  a  clergyman  in  the  first  parish  in 
Dedham,  in  the  same  commonwealth.  Here  a  new  circle  of 
duties  fell  to  her  share.  It  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  tasks  in 
the  world  to  act  the  clergyman's  wife  in  New-England.  Every 
eye  is  upon  her ;  if  too  solemn  they  complain ;  and  if  of  a 
cheerful,  lively  disposition,  they  seem  to  doubt  her  piety.  But 
Mrs.  Bates  had  nothing  to  change,  and  no  habit  to  get  rid  of 
She  soon  was  as  popular  there  as  a  matron,  as  she  had  been  in 
her  father's  house  as  a  young  lady.  She  visited  the  sick,  fed 
the  poor,  clothed  the  naked,  and  rejoiced  with  the  happy.  She 
was  orthodox,  according  to  the  faith  of  her  fathers,  but  the  Uni- 
tarians in  Dedham  were  foremost  in  her  praise,  for  her  virtues 
did  not  depend  upon  creeds.  She  would  have  been  pious 
under  any  form  of  belief  Some  years  after  the  settlement  of 
Mr.  Bates  in  Dedham,  he  was  appointed  president  of  Middle- 
bury  College ;  an  office  for  which  he  was  eminently  qualified. 
He  was  learned,  pious,  social,  dignified,  and  possessed  a  happy 
faculty  of  inspiring  respect  and  confidence.  The  institution  has 
flourished  under  his  auspices,  and  is  now  one  of  the  most  repu- 
table in  New-England.  Mrs.  Bates  was  precisely  fitted  for  this 
new  situation.  Accustomed  to  see  company  without  parade,  to 
make  her  house  a  resort  for  the  enlightened  in  an  easy  and 
pleasant  way,  she  had  nothing  new  to  learn,  but  only  to  pursue 
the  course  she  had  followed  from  childhood.  The  same  round 
of  philanthropic  deeds,  and  the  same  Christian  courtesies,  made 
her  as  happy  here,  as  it  had  done  when  her  usefulness  was 
more  confined.  She  had  a  large  family  of  children,  and  spared 
no  pains  in  instructing  them.  It  was  not  her  destiny  to  live  to 
old  age.  She  died  after  a  short  illness,  in  1826,  and  was  most 
deeply  mourned  by  all  who  ever  knew  her,  in  any  walk  of  life. 


102  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

She  had  genius,  taste,  good  sense,  equanimity,  and  sweetness  of 
disposition.  Her  religion  was  the  bright,  hopeful,  soul-cheer- 
ing being,  who  descended  from  heaven  to  bless  mankind  when 
the  Saviour  of  man  walked  the  earth,  and  gave  his  command- 
ments of  love  to  mankind.  Such  women  should  be  held  up  as 
examples  for  our  esteem,  for  all  may  profit  by  them. 


Esther  Burr,  the  wife  of  Aaron  Burr,  president  of  Nassau 
Hall,  New  Jersey,  was  the  daughter  of  Jonathan  Edwards,  the 
famous  metaphysician,  who  wrote  on  the  human  will,  a  volume 
which  has  been  a  text  book  in  some  of  our  colleges  ever  since 
his  day;  and  to  whom  the  celebrated  Sir  James  Macintosh  has 
lately  paid  the  highest  compliment  that  can  be  awarded  to 
genius.  She  was  married  to  president  Burr,  in  1752,  and  was 
the  mother  of  two  children,  a  son  and  daughter.  The  daugh- 
ter, was  married  to  Judge  Reeve,  of  Connecticut,  a  sound  law- 
yer, who,  for  many  years,  was  the  principal  of  a  law  school, 
where  many  distinguished  men  of  the  United  States  have  been 
instructed  in  the  science  of  the  law.  The  son  of  Mrs.  Burr  is 
still  living,  the  famous  Col.  Aaron  Burr,  a  statesman,  lawyer, 
and  orator,  in  the  first  grade  of  American  talent.  President 
Burr  died  in  1757,  and  his  father-in-law,  Jonathan  Edwards, 
was  chosen  to  supply  his  place.  President  Burr  was  a  scholar 
of  high  acquirements,  admired  for  his  eloquence,  his  readiness 
in  business,  his  deep  and  fervid  piety,  as  well  as  for  his  know- 
ledge of  the  great  doctrines  of  the  protestant  religion.  He  was 
a  pattern  of  meekness,  and  of  evangelical  piety.  He  was  a 
friend  to  George  Whitfield,  and  accompanied  him  to  Boston  in 
1764,  preaching  when  Whitfield  Avas  exhausted;  and  among  the 
most  judicious,  was  thought  a  better  orator  than  the  great  itine- 
rant preacher  himself  The  college  flourished  under  his  admin- 
istration, and  many  flocked  to  it  from  the  New  England  states, 
to  share  the  benefit  of  his  instruction.  In  fact,  he  was  the  most 
popular  president  that  had  taken  charge  of  a  college  in  this 
coimtry.  While  president  of  Nassau  Hall,  he  continued  to 
preach.  He  had  no  gloom  in  his  composition.  He  inspired 
all  around  him  with  cheerfulness.     He  had  no  narrow  feelings. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  103 

His  arms  were  open  to  good  men  of  every  denomination.     A 
sweetness  of  temper,  obliging  courtesy,  and   mildness  of  man- 
ners, joined  to  an  engaging  candor  of  sentiment,  spread  a  glory 
over  his  reputation,  and  endeared  his  person  to  all  his  acquaint- 
ances.    Though  steady  to  his  principles,  he  was  free  from  all 
bigotry.     In  the  pulpit  he  shone  with  peculiar  lustre.     He  was 
fluent,  copious,  sublime,  and  persuasive.     Having  a   clear  and 
harmonious  voice,  which  was  capable  of  expressing  the  various 
passions,  and  taking  a  deep  interest  in  his  subject,  he  could  not 
fail  to  reach  the  heart.     His  invention  was  exhaustless,  and  his 
elocution  was  equal  to  his  ideas.     He  wished  to  restore  man, 
disfigured  by  the  apostacy,  to  the  beautiful  image  of  God.     He 
was  distinguished  for  public  spirit.     Amidst  his  other  cares  he 
studied,  and   planned,  and  toiled  for  the  good  of  his  country. 
He  had  a  high  sense  of  English  liberty,  and  detested  despotic 
power  as  the  bane  of  human  happiness.     Over  the  college  he 
presided  with  dignity  and  reputation.     He  had  a  most  engaging 
method  of  instruction,  and  a  singular  talent  in  communicating 
his  sentiments.     He  stripped  learning  of  its  mysteries,  and  pre- 
sented the  most  intricate  subjects  in  the  clearest  light ;  and  while 
he  enriched  the  minds  of  the  students  with  the  treasures  of  learn- 
ing, he  also  implanted  in  them  the  seeds  of  virtue  and  religion. 
He  possessed  the  true  spirit  of  government  in  his  college,  and 
no  one  could   complain  of   laxity  or   partiality.      He   printed 
several  learned  works  upon  divinity,  which  show  that  he  pos- 
sessed intellect,  taste,  and  learning.     He  died  in  1757;  and  his 
wife  survived  him  but  a  short  time,  dying  the  next  year,  at  the 
early  age  of  twenty-seven.     The  character  of  the  puritan  divines 
gave  them  a  choice  of  all  the  first  rate  females  of  the  country  for 
wives,  and  they  were  wise  enough  to  avail  themselves  of  their 
privilege.     The  daughter  of  Jonathan  Edwards  and  Mary  his 
wife,  so   descended,  and  so  educated,  was  among  the  first  that 
taste,  piety,  and  genius,  would  seek  for.     It  is  agreed  on  all 
hands,  that  Mrs.  Burr  was  a  woman  of  singular  endowments. 
She  was  beautiful,  accomplished,  pious,  and  learned.     She  was 
eloquent  and  fascinating,  and  wrote  with  genius  and  facility;  but 
in  all  probability,  most  of  the  productions  from  her  pen  are  lost 


104  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

for  there  was  no  one  to  gather  up  her  writings ;  for  her  parents 
died  soon  after  her,  and  her  children  were  then  too  young  to 
think  of  preserving  any  thing  to  keep  her  memory  alive.  She 
died  of  relapse,  which  followed  the  small  pox. 

Mrs  Burr  was  an  ornament  to  her  sex.  Her  temper  was 
sweet,  and  her  conversation  fascinating.  Her  manners  were 
graceful,  and  her  literary  accomplishments  were  acknowledged 
by  all ;  for  she  made  no  one  feel  her  superiority  while  she  was 
dispensing  life  and  happiness  around  her.  There  was  no  gloom 
in  her  religion  ;  that  was  all  pure  and  perfect  as  the  sunshine 
lapon  other  worlds,  where  no  clouds  intervene.  If  there  had 
been  those  who  were  in  the  habit  of  writing  biographies  then, 
as  in  the  present  day,  her  virtues  and  accomplishments  would 
have  been  spread  upon  a  more  ample  record,  than  can  now  be 
made,  after  the  lapse  of  three  quarters  of  a  century. 


Ann  Eliza  Bleecker,  the  daughter  of  Brandt  Schuyler, 
Esqr.,  was  born  in  the  city  of  New  York,  in  the  month  of  October, 
1752.  She  was,  from  childhood,  fond  of  books.  At  the  age  of 
seventeen  she  was  married  to  Mr.  Bleecker,  of  New  Rochelle, 
and  after  living  for  a  while  in  this  new  city  of  the  Hugeunotts, 
she  removed  to  Poughkeepsie,  and  from  thence  to  Tomhanick, 
a  romantic  village  not  more  than  twenty  miles  from  Albany. 
This  place  was  made  by  nature  to  nurse  poetic  thoughts.  Here 
she  had  a  few  friends,  a  few  books,  and,  what  was  more,  they 
had  them  all  to  themselves,  a  luxury  seldom  enjoyed  in  a  crowded 
city.  The  approach  of  Burgoyne's  army,  in  1777,  was  the 
first  event  to  disturb  her  repose.  She  could  hardly  believe  that 
a  hostile  foot  could  invade  her  sacred  retreat ;  but  she  was  roused 
from  this  dream  by  a  report  that  the  enemy  was  close  at  hand. 
With  only  one  domestic  she  fled  with  her  two  little  children  to 
a  place  called  Stony  Arabia.  Her  youngest  child  became  sick 
by  hurry  and  fright,  and  soon  died  with  the  complaints  of  the 
fall  season.  She  had  cherished  a  most  romantic  love  for  her 
offspring,  natural  to  poetic  minds,  drawing  aliment  from  solitude, 
and  hardly  acquainted  with  the  vicissitudes  of  mortal  existence, 
&s  found  in  the  bosom  of  society,  and  she  could  not  be  consoled. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY  105 

During  these  difficulties,  her  husband  was  taken  prisoner  by 
the  scouting  parties,  and  was  absent  for  several  days,  Avhich  pro- 
duced sad  effects  on  her  disturbed  mind.  When  war  had  passed 
away,  though  the  enemy  had  not  as  yet  departed  from  our  shores, 
she  was  prevailed  upon  to  visit  the  city  of  her  birth,  which  her 
husband  hoped  would  revive  her  spirits ;  but  the  visit  had  a  dif- 
ferent effect.  She  saw  the  ravages  war  had  made,  and  her  dis- 
eased imagination  turned  all  things  on  the  dark  side.  Peace  had 
indeed  come,  and  the  olive-branch  was  talked  of  in  all  circles,  but 
not  a  rose  bush  of  joy  had  budded,  nor  a  bough  of  any  thing  but 
the  laurel  of  the  heroes  of  the  revolution  had  grown  in  the  land. 
The  footsteps  of  desolation  were  freshly  imprinted  in  the  soil, 
and  she  was  too  far  imbued  with  all  the  horrors  of  war,  to  in- 
dulge a  vision  of  hope.  She  returned  to  her  rural  retreat,  and 
died  on  the  twenty-third  of  November,  1783,  just  as  the  last  hos- 
tile foot  was  leaving  her  native  land.  She  was  deeply  lamented, 
for  the  poor  found  in  her  a  kind  benefactor,  and  her  friends  loved 
her  as  one  who  had  a  heart  attuned  to  every  virtuous  feeling, 
united  to  a  clear,  and  exalted  mind,  that  ranked  her  high  among 
women  of  talents.  Some  years  after  her  death,  the  poems  she 
had  written,  were  collected,  and  published  by  her  daughter, 
Mrs.  Faugeres.  There  are  no  wonderful  traces  of  genius  in 
these  compositions,  but  they  show  taste  and  talents,  and  prove 
that  she  would  have  been  capable  of  high  efforts,  if  the  powers 
of  her  mind  had  been  strengthened  by  years,  or  properly  develo- 
ped by  the  admiration  of  the  tasteful,  or  cherished  by  public  notice. 
Never  was  there  a  flower  more  decidedly  born  to  blush  unseen, 
than  the  poetical  talents  of  Mrs.  Bleecker.  In  viewing  the  place 
where  she  wrote,  and  from  whence  she  fled  from  the  enemy, 
whose  strides  were  then  supposed  to  have  no  check ;  and  in 
contemplating  the  melancholy  loss  of  her  infant,  give  a  more 
than  ordinary  interest  to  those  pure  thoughts  which  abound  in 
her  poetry.  She  hardly  thought  that  her  writings  would  ever 
be  the  subject  of  future  criticism,  or  ever  of  public  notice ;  but 
she  did  not  know  that  there  is  immortality  in  pure  and  virtuous 
sentiments,  embalmed  in  sweet  expressions. 

There  is  a  sweet  current  of  conjugal  and  maternal  affection, 


106  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

running  through  every  line  of  her  poetry,  that  makes  it  more 
fascinating  than  more  labored  verse,  of  deeper  thought  and 
higher  finish.  She  saw  nature  in  all  her  loveliness,  and  painted 
her  as  she  was  seen.  Her  poetical  powers  might  have  been 
cultivated  to  high  efforts,  if  opportunity  had  offered.  When  she 
wrote,  she  had  but  few  models  among  her  own  people  to  assist 
her  taste.  The  following  specimens  of  her  poetry,  are  full  of 
ease,  delicacy,  affection,  and  taste,  and  place  her  productions 
among  the  loveliest  fruits  of  the  pastoral  muse. 

TO  MB.  ELEECKER,  ON  HIS  PASSAGE  TO  NEW  YORK. 

Shall  fancy  still  pursue  the  expanding  sails, 
Calm  Neptune's  brow,  or  raise  impelling  gales? 
Or  with  her  Bleecker  ply  the  laboring  oar. 
When  pleasing  scenes  invite  him  to  the  shore. 
There  with  him  through  the  fading  valleys  rove, 
Bless'd  in  idea  with  the  man  I  love? 
Methinks  I  see  the  broad  majestic  sheet 
Swell  to  the  wind ;  the  flying  shores  retreat : 
I  see  the  banks,  with  varied  foUage  gay. 
Inhale  the  misty  sun's  reluctant  ray : 
The  lofty  groves  stripp'd  of  their  verdure,  rise 
To  the  inclemence  of  autumnal  skies. 

Rough  mountains  now  appear,  while  pendant  woods 
Hang  o'er  the  gloomy  steep  and  shade  of  floods  ; 
Slow  moves  the  vessel,  while  each  distant  sound 
The  cavern' d  echoes  doubly  loud  rebound ; 
A  placid  stream  meanders  on  the  steep. 
Till  tumbling  from  the  cliff,  divides  the  frowning  deep. 

Oh  tempt  not  fate  on  these  stupendous  rocks, 
Where  never  shepherd  led  his  timid  flocks ; 
But  shagged  bears  in  those  wild  deserts  stray, 
And  wolves,  who  howl  against  the  lunar  ray : 
There  builds  the  ravenous  hawk  her  lofty  nest, 
And  there  the  soaring  eagle  takes  her  rest ; 
The  solitary  deer  recoils  to  hear 
The  torrent  thundering  in  the  midway  air. 
Ah  !  let  me  intercede — Ah !  spare  her  breath. 
Nor  aim  the  tube  charged  with  a  leaden  death. 

But  now  advancing  to  the  opening  sea, 
The  wind  springs  up,  the  lessening  mountains  flee ; 
The  eastern  batiks  are  crown' d  with  rural  seats, 
And  nature's  works  the  hand  of  art  completes. 
Here  Philips'  villa,  where  Pomona  joins 
At  once  the  product  of  a  hundred  climes ; 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  107 

Here,  tinged  by  Flora,  Asian  flowers  unfold 
Their  burnish' d  leaves  of  vegetable  gold. 
When  snows  descend,  and  clouds  tumultuously  fly 
Through  the  blue  medium  of  the  crystal  sky, 
Beneath  his  painted  mimic  heaven  he  roves 
Amidst  the  glass-encircled  citron  groves ; 
The  grape  and  luscious  fig  his  taste  invite, 
Hesperian  apples  grow  upon  his  sight ; 
The  sweet  auriculas  their  bells  display, 
And  Philips  finds  in  January,  May. 

But  on  the  other  side  the  cliffs  arise, 
Charybdis  like,  and  seem  to  prop  the  skies  : 
How  oft  with  admiration  have  we  view'd 
Those  adamantine  barriers  of  the  flood  1 
Yet  still  the  vessel  cleaves  the  liquid  mead, 
The  prospect  dies,  the  aspiring  rocks  recede ; 
New  objects  rush  upon  the  wondering  sight, 
Till  Phcebus  rolls  from  heaven  his  car  of  light, 
And  Cynthia's  silver  crescent  gilds  the  night. 

I  hear  the  melting  flute's  melodious  sound, 
Which  dying  zephyrs  waft  alternate  round. 
The  rocks  in  notes  responsive  soft  complain. 
And  think  Amphion  strikes  his  lyre  again. 
Ah !  'tis  my  Bleeker  breaths  our  mutual  loves. 
And  sends  the  trembUng  airs  through  vocal  groves. 

Thus  having  led  you  to  the  happy  isle, 
Where  waves  circumfluent  wash  the  fertile  soil, 
Where  Hudson,  meeting  the  Atlantic,  roars, 
The  parting  lands  dismiss  him  from  their  shores ; 
Indulge  the  enthusiast  muse  her  favorite  strain 
Of  panegyric,  due  to  Eboracia's  plain. 

There  is  no  land  where  heaven  her  blessings  pours 
In  such  abundance,  as  upon  these  shores  ; 
With  influence  benign  the  planets  rise, 
Pure  is  the  ether  and  serene  the  skies  ; 
With  annual  gold  kind  Ceres  decks  the  ground. 
And  gushing  springs  dispense  bland  health  around : 
No  lucid  gems  are  here,  or  flaming  ore. 
To  tempt  the  hand  of  avarice  and  power : 
But  sun-burnt  labor,  with  diurnal  toil, 
Bids  treasures  rise  from  the  obedient  soil, 
And  commerce  calls  the  ships  across  the  main, 
For  gold  exchanging  her  superfluous  grain ; 
While  concord,  Uberty,  and  jocund  health, 
Sport  with  young  pleasure  mid  the  rural  wealth. 

EETUBN  TO   TOMHANICK. 

Hail,  happy  shades !  though  clad  with  heavy  snows 
At  sight  of  you  with  joy  my  bosom  glows  •  i 


108  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Ye  arching  pines,  that  bow  with  every  breeze, 

Ye  poplars,  elms,  all  hail  my  well  known  trees ! 

And  now  my  peaceful  mansion  strikes  my  eye, 

And  now  the  tinkling  rivulet  I  spy ; 

My  little  garden,  Flora,  hast  thou  kept, 

And  watch' d  my  pinks  and  lilies  while  I  wept  7 

Or  has  the  grubbing  swine,  by  furies  led. 

The  enclosure  broke,  and  on  my  flowerets  fed  7 

Ah  me  !  that  spot  with  blooms  so  lately  graced, 
With  storms  and  driving  snows  is  now  defaced; 
Sharp  icicles  from  every  bush  depend. 
And  frosts  all  dazzling  o'er  the  beds  extend : 
Yet  soon  fair  spring  shall  give  another  scene, 
And  yellow  cowslips  gild  the  level  green ; 
My  little  orchard  sprouting  at  each  bough. 
Fragrant  with  clustering  blossoms  deep  shall  glow  • 
Ah!  then  'tis  sweet  the  tufted  grass  to  tread. 
But  sweeter  slumbering  in  the  balmy  shade ; 
The  rapid  humming  bird, with  ruby  breast, 
Seeks  the  parterre  with  early  blue-bells  drest, 
Drinks  deep  the  honeysuckle  dew,  or  drives 
The  laboring  bee  to  her  domestic  hives  : 
Then  shines  the  lupine  bright  with  morning  gems. 
And  sleepy  poppys  nod  upon  their  stems ; 
The  humble  violet  and  the  dulcet  rose. 
The  stately  lily  then,  and  tulip  blows. 

Farewell,  my  Plutarch  !    farewell,  pen  and  muse  i 
Nature  exults — shall  I  her  call  refuse? 
Apollo  fervid  glitters  in  my  face. 
And  threatens  with  his  beam  each  feeble  grace : 
Yet  still  around  the  lovely  plants  I  toil, 
And  draw  obnoxious  herbage  from  the  soil ; 
Or  with  the  lime-twigs  Uttle  birds  surprise, 
Or  angle  for  the  trout  of  many  dyes. 

But  when  the  vernal  breezes  pass  away. 
And  loftier  Phoebus  darts  a  fiercer  ray, 
The  spiky  corn  then  rattles  all  around. 
And  dashing  cascades  give  a  pleasing  sound ; 
Shrill  sings  the  locust  with  prolonged  note. 
The  cricket  chirps  familiar  in  each  cot. 
The  village  children  rambhng  o'er  yon  hill,  ■•■ 

With  berries  all  their  painted  baskets  fill. 
They  rob  the  squirrel's  little  walnut  store. 
And  climb  the  half  exhausted  tree  for  more  ; 
Or  else  to  fields  of  maize  nocturnal  hie. 
Where  hid,  the  elusive  water-melons  lie ; 
Sportive, they  make  incisions  in  the  rind. 
The  riper  from  the  immature  to  find ; 
Then  load  their  tender  shoulders  with  the  prey. 
\  And  laughing  bear  the  bulky  fruit  away. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  109 

Francisca  Anna  Pascalis  Canfield,  was  born  m  Phila- 
delphia, in  August  1803.  She  was  the  daughter  of  Felix 
Pascalis,  M.  D.,  distinguished  in  the  medical  and  philosophical 
world,  for  his  numerous  dissertations  on  abstruse  subjects,  for 
his  practice  in  the  yellow  fever,  and  other  extraordinary  disor- 
ders, and  as  a  political  economist,  who  has  made  great  exer- 
tions in  introducing  into  the  United  States,  the  Chinese  mulberry 
tree,  in  order  to  encourage  the  making  of  silk  in  this  country.  Her 
parents  resided  for  some  years  after  their  marriage  in  Philadel- 
phia, of  which  place  her  mother  was  a  native,  and  afterwards 
removed  to  New  York.  Miss  Pascalis  was  remarkable  for  her 
intellectual  acquirements,  when  quite  a  child,  although  she  had 
not  any  extraordinary  advantages  of  education.  Her  father  was 
too  busy  in  his  professional  and  philosophical  pursuits,  to  pay 
much  attention  to  his  daughter's  education,  and  her  mother  went 
no  farther  in  the  course  of  her  studies,  than  to  see  that  she  was 
industrious,  and  could  give  a  good  account  of  her  time.  When 
only  ten  years  of  age,  she  attracted  the  attention  of  that  sagacious 
philosopher,  and  deep  judge  of  human  nature,  Dr.  Samuel  L. 
Mitchill,  who  playfully  became  her  Valentine,  and  wrote  her 
the  following  in  1815.  It  clearly  proves  that  he  foresaw  that 
distinction  awaited  his  youthful  friend. 

Descending  snows  the  earth  o'erspread, 

Keen  blows  the  northern  blast ; 
Condensing  clouds  scowl  over  head, 

The  tempest  gathers  fast. 

But  soon  the  icy  mass  shall  melt, 

The  winter  end  his  reign, 
The  sun's  reviving  warmth  be  felt, 

And  nature  smile  again. 

The  plants  from  torpid  sleep  shall  wake, 

And,  nurs'd  by  vernal  showers, 
Their  yearly  exhibition  make 

Of  foliage  and  of  flowers. 

So  you  an  opening  bud  appear, 

Whose  bloom  and  verdure  shoot, 
To  load  Francisca' s  growing  year 

With  intellectual  fruit. 
10 


110  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

The  feather'd  tribes  shall  flit  along, 

And  thicken  on  the  trees, 
Till  air  shall  undulate  with  song, 

Till  music  stir  the  breeze. 

Thus,  like  a  charming  bird,  your  lay 

The  listening  ear  shall  greet, 
And  render  social  circles  gay. 

Or  make  retirement  sweet. 

Then  warblers  chirp,  and  roses  ope. 

To  entertain  my  fair, 
Till  nobler  themes  engage  her  hope. 

And  occupy  her  care. 

In  school  Miss  Pascalis  was  at  the  head  of  her  class,  and 
mastered  languages  with  such  readiness,  that  her  instructors 
often  suspected  her  father  of  devoting  his  time  in  bringing  her 
forward,  when  he  hardly  knew  what  she  was  studying  at  the 
time.  She  made  translations  from  the  French,  Italian,  Spanish, 
and  Portuguese,  for  mere  amusement,  or  for  school  exercises; 
and  many  of  them  have  been  preserved  by  her  friends,  and  show 
unquestionable  evidences  of  genius.  She  early  caught  the  spirit 
of  universal  grammar,  and  found  no  difficulty  in  getting  posses- 
sion of  the  beauties,  and  idiom  of  a  language.  Her  poetical 
taste  early  appeared,  and  at  a  very  tender  age  she  wrote  sonnets, 
criticisms,  satires,  hymns,  and  epistles  to  her  friends  in  verse. 
There  are  many  of  her  productions  preserved,  which  she  wrote 
between  the  ages  of  eleven  and  fifteen,  that  are  excellent.  The 
following  translation  from  the  French,  she  wrote  when  she  was 
only  thirteen;  it  is  difficult  to  pour  the  soul  of  a  song  into  a 
translation,  but  certainly  there  is  much  in  this  that  might  remind 
others  besides  soldiers  of  their  home. 

Q,uand  reverrai-je  en  un  jour, 
Tous  les  objets  de  mon  amour? 

Nos  clairs  ruisseaux ; 

Nos  coteaux ; 

Nos  hameaux ; 

Nos  montagnes, 
Et  I'ornement  de  nos  campagnes  1 
La  si  gentille  Isabeau, 
A  I'ombre  d'un  ormeau ; 
Quand  danserai-je  au  son  du  chalumeau  1 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  Ill 

Quand  reverrai-je  en  un  jour, 
Tous  les  objets  de  mon  amour  1 

Mon  pere, 

Ma  mere, 

Mon  frere, 

Ma  SQBur, 

Mes  agneaux, 

Mes  troupeaux, 

Ma  bergere ; 
Q,uand  reverrai-je  en  un  jour, 
Tous  ces  objets  de  mon  amour  1 

(translated  by  request.) 

The  day  how  blissful  will  it  be, 
When  each  loved  object  I  shall  see. 
The  clear  and  purling  rill. 

The  mountain  top  so  grey. 
The  verdure-covered  hill, 

The  distant  hamlets  gay. 
The  glacier's  summits  pale, 
And  my  native  sheltered  vale, 
Of  my  ancestors  the  grave, 
Where  the  elm's  hoar  branches  wave, 
To  the  gale. 
When  to  the  soft  breathing  sound  of  the  lute 
Shall  I  merrily  dance  with  the  light-bounding  foot, 
Graze  with  delight  on  my  Isabel's  smile, 
That  lightened  my  labor,  and  sweetened  my  toil  1 
That  day  how  bhssful  will  it  be, 
When  each  loved  object  I  shall  see. 
My  father — my  mother, 
My  sister — my  brother. 
My  sheep  which  love  the  shade, 
Of  the  flower-cinctured  glade  ; 
The  woodbine  o'er  the  thatch  which  creeps, 
The  rose  which  round  my  dwelling  weeps ; 
And  she,  my  fond  and  charming  maid ! — 
That  day  with  bliss  shall  crowned  be, 
When  each  loved  object  I  will  see. 

Before  Miss  Pascalis  had  left  school,  she  translated  from  the 
French  a  volume  of  Lavater's  work  for  a  friend,  who  had 
engraved  the  plates  of  the  work  from  the  original.  Soon  after 
this,  she  translated  the  "  Solitaire,"  from  the  French,  and  the 
•'  Roman  Nights,"  from  the  Italian  of  Alexander  Verri,  and  the 
"  Vine  Dresser,"  from  the  French,  at  a  subsequent  period.    The 


112  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

English  of  her  works  are  extolled  as  excellent.  In  the  "  Roman 
Nights,"  as  it  appears  in  the  English  dress,  there  is  much  of  the 
noble  flow  of  Tully,  with  the  delicacy  of  the  best  Italian  writers. 
A  splendid  Italian  scholar,  Dr.  William  Taylor,  of  the  catholic 
church,  considered  Miss  Pascalis'  "  Roman  Nights,"  as  the  best 
translation  he  had  ever  read  of  any  work  from  his  beloved 
Italian,  and  was  of  opinion  also  that  she  was  a  most  delightful 
poet  in  her  own  language. 

We  quote  the  introduction  of  this  splendid  work  of  Verri  as 
a  specimen  of  her  talent  at  translation. 

"  On  my  first  acquaintance  with  the  writings  of  the  ancients, 
my  admiration  became  fixed  by  the  grandeur  and  elevation  of 
their  style,  and  the  extraordinary  times  which  they  commemo- 
rated. But  gigantic  Rome  towered  above  all  the  other  nations 
of  antiquity,  as  superior  by  a  heroic  strength  and  a  noble  pride  of 
character,  as  by  the  magnitude  and  extent  of  her  conquests. 
After  having  been  long  habituated  to  the  study  and  contempla- 
tion of  her  heroes,  my  infatuated  mind  peopled  my  solitary 
retirement  with  their  society.  I  felt  their  presence  in  lonely 
and  quiet  groves,  or  when  wandering  by  some  meandering 
rivulet :  there,  beyond  all  intrusion  on  my  thoughts,  save  the 
warbling  of  a  bird,  or  the  whispers  of  the  breeze,  my  spirit, 
absorbed  in  deep  meditation,  seemed  to  forget  my  present  being, 
and  would  soar  away  to  those  distant  ages.  This  bias  of  my 
imagination  so  increased  by  indulgence,  that  at  length  I  began 
to  cherish  a  strange  and  strong  desire,  and  secret  hope,  of  being 
able  to  invoke  from  the  dead,  some  of  the  celebrated  characters 
of  the  once  mistress  of  the  world;  to  view  them  face  to  face,  and 
hold  communion  with  them.  Petrarch  undoubtedly  felt  the 
same  aspiration ;  for  we  know  that  he  composed  letters  to 
Cicero,  Seneca,  Livy,  and  Varro,  thus  enabling  himself  to  pass 
over  the  intermediary  interval  of  ages,  and  establish  an  inter- 
course with  the  greatest  of  the  ancients.  The  enthusiasm  also 
of  Pomponius  Letus  was  a  precedent  for  mine :  deeply  versed 
in  the  antiquities  of  his  country,  he  w^as  often  seen  standing 
motionless  among  ruins,  bedewing  them  with  the  tears  of  admi- 
ration.    Attracted  by  the  same  taste,  and  ardently  desirous  of 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  113 

yielding  to  my  mind  the  most  lively  gratification  of  which  it  was 
susceptible,  I  left  the  plains  of  Lombardy  for  Rome,  on  which 
my  fancy  so  continually  rested. 

"  Those  only  who  have  tasted  the  delights  of  classic  erudition, 
can  comprehend  the  multitude  of  sensations  that  crowd  upon  the 
traveller,  when,  from  the  heights  of  the  Appenines,  he  sees  the 
road  descend  before  him  to  the  Eternal  City !  The  eye,  with 
eager  curiosity,  seeks  for  the  summits  of  the  Seven  Hills ;  the 
heart,  still  more  impatient,  swells  with  anticipation ;  and  every 
fragment  of  ruins  on  the  road,  becomes  the  object  of  learned 
conjecture  and  of  complacent  speculation, 

"  When  I  found  myself  on  the  Flaminian  Way,  I  thought  of 
its  ancient  magnificent  extent  from  Rome  to  Rimini,  and  of  the 
consul  from  whom  it  derived  its  name,  who  fell  in  the  me- 
morable battle  with  Hannibal,  at  the  lake  of  Thrasymene.  I 
was  still  absorbed  in  the  reveries  these  thoughts  induced,  when 
I  passed  through  the  noble  gate  which  terminates  the  Flaminian. 
Its  majestic  architecture  seemed  to  continue  the  pleasing  illusion 
with  which  I  persuaded  myself,  that  I  was  entering  the  marble 
city  of  the  emperor  Augustus.  I  will  not  attempt  to  detail  all 
my  feelings  during  the  first  moments  of  my  residence  at  Rome, 
for  there  are  impressions  to  which  the  most  able  description 
could  not  render  justice.  It  were  better  to  pass  over  in  silence 
my  overw^helming  emotions  at  the  first  sight  of  the  sacred  Tiber ; 
the  Egyptian  obelisks ;  temples  still  black  with  the  smoke  of 
ancient  sacrifices ;  the  Flavian  amphitheatre,  resting  in  ruins  like 
an  overthrown  colossus ;  the  columns  on  which  the  military  regu- 
lations were  graven ;  the  site  of  the  forum ;  the  mausoleums ; 
ihe  thermal  baths;  the  triumphal  arches;  the  stupendous 
remains  of  the  circi ;  and  all  the  other  monuments  of  Roman 
grandeur  and  magnificence,  which  command  our  wonder  and 
admiration. 

"  It  was    in   that    season  of   the  year  when  the  vapors    of 

autumn  moisten  the  earths  after  the  burning  heats  of  summer. 

The  sky,  where  it  gleamed  through  the  piles  of  snowy  clouds, 

was  deeply  blue ;  the  parched  plants  had  resumed  their  former 

verdure,  and   the   green    turf  wore   the   freshness  of  spring 

10* 


114  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Instead  of  the  shrill  monotonous  chirp  of  the  field-cricket,  the 
ear  was  now  saluted  by  the  musical  warbling  of  a  thousand 
birds,  that  wantoned  on  the  balmy  air  in  innocent  security, 
ignorant  of  the  snares  of  the  fowler.  At  this  time  there  was  a 
rumor  in  Rome,  that  the  sepulchre  of  the  Scipios,  which  had 
been  the  object  of  so  much  useless  research,  was  at  length  dis- 
covered. This  interesting  fact  made  me  immediately  renounce 
every  other  object ;  for  the  monuments  of  great  men  penetrate 
the  soul  that  loves  the  calm  of  reflection,  with  a  pleasing  melan- 
choly, far  preferable  to  the  exultation  of  gayety  and  the  turbu- 
lence of  mirth.  When  nio-ht  came,  brinsfing:  the  silence  and 
obscurity  favorable  to  my  design,  I  repaired  to  the  spot,  which 
was  marked  by  a  rustic  hovel ;  thence  a  narrow  and  irregular 
excavation  leads  to  the  catacombs.  Through  this  steep  and 
rocky  passage,  I  entered  the  tomb  of  the  valiant  race  of  the 
Scipios.  The  remains  of  some  of  them  had  been  disinterred 
from  the  earth  and  ruins,  under  which  others  were  still  buried. 
I  approached  them,  carrying  a  flambeau  to  guide  my  steps ;  and 
by  its  glimmering  light  I  perceived  the  mouldering  remains 
mingled  together  among  the  stones  and  the  loose  earth.  Slowly 
moving  my  torch  around  me,  I  marked  with  dissatisfaction 
and  pain  the  inroads  of  the  spade  on  these  spoils  of  the  grave, 
worthy  of  being  enshrined  in  sarcophagi  of  alabaster,  but  now 
become  toys  for  the  vulgar  curious,  and  the  sport  of  the  populace.  "" 
But  learned  travellers,  attracted  to  Rome  from  all  parts  of  the 
globe,  by  an  enlightened  taste  for  antiquity,  had  been  willing  to 
express  a  due  veneration  for  these  precious  relics  ;  and  had 
hastened  to  gather  and  transfer  some  to  distant  cabinets  as 
pledges  of  their  respect  to  the  memory  of  the  Scipios.  Even 
foreign  ladies  of  rank,  on  hearing  of  this  discovery,  had  fear- 
lessly exposed  their  delicate  feet  to  the  rugged  soil  of  the  cavern; 
and  had  touched  with  their  fair  and  soft  hands  these  crumbling 
bones,  sad  evidences  of  human  caducity.  As  for  me,  I  could 
not  avoid  feeling  a  shudder  of  reluctance  to  tread  under  foot 
the  remains  of  that  race  of  heroes ;  and  as  I  walked,  to  crush 
perhaps  the  head  or  the  arm  of  one  of  those  triumphant  sons 
of  victory. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  115 

"  These  venerable  tombs  bear  in  their  simplicity  the  stamp  of 
those  better  days  of  the  republic,  when  the  Romans  sought  not 
to  distinguish  themselves  by  vain  magnificence,  but  by  the  splen- 
dor of  their  virtues.  They  are  built  only  of  coarse  stone,  rough 
hewn ;  and  the  names  and  actions  of  the  dead  are  traced  simply 
in  red  ochre,  fortunately  yet  uninjured.  The  monumental 
inscriptions  are  in  the  ancient  Latin  tongue,  and  modestl}^  record, 
in  a  concise  style,  the  famous  actions  of  those  deposited  within 
them.  The  pyramid  of  Caius  Cestius  still  stands,  I  said,  as  I 
gazed  around  me,  though  his  fame  is  so  obscure  that  scarce 
a  trace  of  it  is  found  in  history.  Thus  his  pompous  tomb  has 
transmitted,  from  age  to  age,  a  name  unaccompanied  with  any 
title  to  glorious  distinction ;  while,  by  the  vicissitude  of  events, 
these  ashes  are  disturbed,  which  for  so  many  centuries  have 
been  buried  from  human  eye.  While  my  mind  was  immersed 
in  reflections  of  this  nature,  the  night  breeze  suddenly  rushed 
through  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,  and  in  a  moment  my  torch 
was  extinguished.  This  accident  was  not  unpleasing ;  by  shut- 
ting out  all  visible  images  it  seemed  to  lend  new  vigor  to  my 
soul,  more  deeply  devoted  to  contemplation  in  the  midst  of  total 
darkness.  The  gloomy  domains  of  death  seemed  to  open  before 
me,  and  again  I  was  seized  with  the  desire  of  communing  with 
their  pale  inhabitants Suddenly,  I  heard  a  plaintive  mur- 
muring of  inarticulate  sounds,  slowly  extending  and  increasing; 
it  resembled  the  noise  of  the  winds  roaring  through  ravines. 
The  earth  shook  under  my  feet;  and  my  ears  rung  as  with  the 
hum  of  bees.  The  bones  of  the  dead  striking  against  the  sides 
of  the  tombs,  rattled  like  the  crashing  of  dry  branches.  The 
tablets  of  the  sepulchres  seemed  to  be  slightly  raised,  and  then 
to  fall  back  to  their  places ;  at  least  such  a  sound  caught  my 
attention  in  that  obscurity.  I  confess  that  human  fears  then  pre- 
vailed over  noble  desires,  and  a  cold  chill  froze  the  current  in 
my  veins.  There  are  none  but  would  have  shared  my  awe ; 
none  who  would  not  have  trembled  at  a  trial  so  far  above  the 
ordinary  strength  of  human  nature.  By  degrees  the  air  became 
calm,  the  earth  grew  firm  beneath  me,  and  at  intervals  a  phos- 
phoric light  expanded  around,  by  which  I  began  to  discern  a 


115  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

few  human  faces  slowly  appearing  in  the  tombs.  I  next  distin- 
guished their  arms  supporting  the  lids  of  stone  which  covered 
them.  At  length  every  sarcophagus  seemed  to  hold  a  spectre, 
standing  and  disclosing  the  upper  parts  of  the  body.  I  saw  the 
head  and  shoulders  of  children  and  young  persons,  and  the 
upper  half  of  the  forms  of  men.  The  females  with  modest  de- 
meanor stood  shrouded  in  veils,  which  some  of  them  drew  aside. 
There  were  youths  whose  thick  locks  shaded  their  brows ;  they 
divided  them  on  their  foreheads,  or  flung  them  back  upon  their 
shoulders ;  while  other  spectres  by  their  baldness  and  white  hair, 
seemed  to  have  died  in  the  decline  of  their  years.  The  faces 
of  young  virgins,  cut  off  in  the  dawn  of  their  loveliness,  though 
shaded  by  death,  were  still  blooming  with  a  faint  carnation,  like 
the  tender  tints  of  the  cropped  flower.  But  the  eyes  of  the  phan- 
toms were  heavy,  and  as  if  weighed  down  by  the  slumber  of 
ages.  While  they  gradually  raised  their  heads,  and  fixed  their 
glances  on  me  with  a  sIoav  and  confused  expression,  like  sleepers 
just  awakened,  I  perceived  a  phosphoric  glare  in  the  distant  part 
of  the  cavern.  It  accompanied  a  spectre  who  advanced  with  a 
majestic  mien,  clothed  in  the  white  toga,  and  resembling  the  con- 
sular statues.  His  countenance  was  replete  with  mild  dignity: 
he  seemed  past  the  prime  of  manhood ;  and  his  aspect  inspired 
respect  and  reverence.  No  sooner  was  he  perceived  by  the 
spectres  among  the  tombs,  than  they  hurried  to  meet  him,  and 
pressed  around  him  with  admiration  and  homage ;  but  there  was 
something  in  their  low  voices  too  melancholy  for  language  to  ex- 
press. Alone  in  the  midst  of  the  immense  crowd  that  surrounded 
him,  he  stood  proudly  erect,  with  conscious  superiority,  and 
seemed  preparing  to  address  them.  Almost  breathless  in  anxious 
suspense,  I  leaned  myself  against  the  side  of  a  tomb,  subdued  to 
silence  by  sentiments  of  surprise  and  veneration." 

Many  of  the  periodicals  of  the  day  were  adorned  by  compo- 
sitions from  her  pen  both  in  prose  and  verse.  The  Minerva, 
the  Mirror,  and  other  papers  w^ere  much  indebted  to  her  pen 
for  some  of  their  most  attractive  articles.  There  are  many  of 
her  tales  which  purport  to  be  translations  that  were  known  to 
be  originally  from  her  study,  never  having  seen  the  light  before 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  llT 

they  appeared  in  an  English  dress.  She  changed  the  signa- 
ture affixed  to  her  poetical  effusions,  as  well  as  to  her  prose 
works,  for  concealment,  not  wishing  it  to  be  known  that  she 
wrote  so  much.  One  of  her  signatures  was  "  Salonina."  By 
this  signature  she  addressed  to  her  friend  Dr.  Mitchill,  a  poetical 
epistle,  purporting  to  be  a  translation  from  Le  Brun.  It  is  a 
paraphrase  more  properly. 

Mitchill,  although  the  envious  frown, 

Their  idle  wrath  disdain ! 
Upon  thy  bright  and  pure  renown, 

They  cannot  cast  a  stain. 
Ida,  the  heaven-crown'd,  feels  the  storm 
Rave  fiercely  round  her  towering  form. 

Her  brow  it  cannot  gain, 
Calm,  sunny,  in  majestic  pride. 
It  marks  the  powerless  blast  subside. 

And  didst  thou  ever  hope  to  stand, 

So  glorious  and  so  high, 
Receive  all  honor  and  command, 

Nor  meet  a  jealous  eye? 
No,  thou  must  expiate  thy  fame. 
Thy  noble,  thy  exalted  name ; 

Yet  pass  thou  proudly  by ! 
The  torrent  may  with  vagrant  force. 
Disturb,  but  cannot  change  thy  course. 

Or,  should  thou  dread  the  threats  to  brave 

Of  malice,  wilful — dire. 
Break  thou  the  sceptre  genius  gave. 

And  quench  thy  spirit's  fire ; 
Down  from  thy  heights  of  soul  descend, 
Thy  flaming  pinions  earthward  bend, 

Fulfil  thy  foes'  desire  ; 
Thy  immortaUty  contemn, 
And  walk  in  common  ways  vdth  them. 

The  lighter  tasks  of  wit  and  mind, 

Let  fickle  taste  adore ; 
But  Genius'  flight  is  unconfin'd, 

O'er  prostrate  time  to  soar. 
How  glows  he,  when  Ambition  tears, 
The  veil  from  gone  and  coming  years  ' 

While  ages  past  before. 
To  him  their  future  being  trust. 
Though  empires  crumble  into  dust. 


il8  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Without  this  magic,  which  the  crowd 

Nor  comprehend,  nor  feel. 
Could  Genius'  son  have  ever  vow'd. 

His  ductile  heart  to  steel, 
'Gainst  all  that  leads  the  human  breast, 
To  turn  to  indolence  and  rest ; 

From  Science'  haunts  to  steal, 
To  Beauty,  Wealth,  and  Ease,  and  Cheer, 
All  that  delight  the  senses  here? 

And  thus  he  earns  a  meed  of  praise, 

From  nations  yet  unborn ; 
Still  he,  whom  present  pomp  repays, 

His  arduous  toil  may  scorn ; 
But  wiser,  sure,  than  hoard  the  rose, 
Which  low  for  each  way-farer  blows, 

And  lives  a  summer  morn, 
To  climb  the  rocky  mountain  way. 
And  gather  the  unfading  bay. 

Yet  wo  for  him  whose  mental  worth 

Fame's  thousand  tongues  resound  ! 
While  living,  every  worm  of  earth, 

Seems  privileged  to  wound. 
His  victory  not  the  less  secure. 
Let  him  the  strife  with  nerve  endure, 

In  death  his  triumph  found ; 
Then  worlds  shall  with  each  other  vie, 
To  spread  the  name  that  cannot  die. 

Miss  Pascalis  was  married  to  Mr.  Canfield,  a  lottery  vender 
and  exchange  broker.  He  was  a  man  of  enterprise,  but  failed 
soon  after  their  marriage.  The  union  of  such  an  accomplished 
woman  with  Mr.  Canfield  was  not  hailed  as  a  very  suitable 
one,  and  so  it  proved.  On  the  change  of  his  fortunes  she  en- 
treated him  to  come  down  to  his  situation,  and  make  safe  and 
sure  efforts  to  rise  again.  This  did  not  agree  with  his  views, 
and  her  advice  was  disregarded.  Mrs.  Canfield  was  never 
heard  to  repine.  She  made  the  best  of  every  thing.  Among 
other  attempts  to  retrieve  his  fortunes,  her  husband  published  a 
paper  called  "  Canfield's  Lottery  Argus,  Commercial  and 
Exchange  Telegraph,  or  National  Miscellany."  The  great 
object  of  the  paper  was,  of  course,  to  give  the  public  all  such 
matters  and  things  as  are  necessarily  connected  with  banks 
and  brokerage,  and  in  this  department  he  was  an  adept.     To 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  119 

this  he  added  a  literary  department  of  which  his  wife  took 
charge.  But  few  readers  of  miscellaneous  literature,  thought 
of  looking  into  such  a  paper  for  matters  of  taste  and  genius, 
and  of  course  her  efforts  were  almost  entirely  "  wasted  on  the 
desert  air."  Many  editors  plundered  her  columns,  thinking 
that  they  should  never  be  detected.  It  was  not  the  proper  situ- 
ation for  one  so  well  calculated  to  fill  a  higher  sphere.  But  as 
editor  of  this  department  she  continued  a  helpmate  to  her  hus- 
band, while  the  paper  existed,  and  it  was  continued  for  several 
years. 

Among  other  accomplishments,  she  was  an  excellent  painter, 
and  if  she  had  confined  her  attention  to  that  branch  of  the  fine 
arts,  she  would  have  been  the  first  female  painter  of  the  age. 
She  drew  a  landscape,  a  flower,  a  stream,  or  a  human  being, 
all  with  equal  ease.  She  sketched  with  readiness,  and  finished 
with  taste.  Some  of  her  copies  of  old  pictures  have  deceived 
professional  painters.  One  of  her  copies  was  sold  at  auction 
for  an  original,  and  the  mistake  was  not  discovered  until  men- 
tioned by  her  father.  She  was  a  tolerable  musician,  and 
played  with  some  science  and  skill,  although  she  had  no  passion 
for  the  art.  Her  imagination  was  powerful,  and  her  invention 
often  surprising,  yet  her  logical  powers  were  always  controling 
when  in  connection  with  her  imagination.  There  is  a  depth  of 
thought  in  her  reasoning  which  gives  strength  to  her  argu- 
ments, and  an  elegance  of  expression  in  her  language  which 
should  be  denominated  eloquence.  In  reasoning,  her  heart  was 
a  vassal  to  her  understanding.  In  Avriting,  she  seemed  to  have 
been  constantly  under  the  influence  of  the  advice  thus  given  to 
Pindar :  "  Moderate  your  fire ;  the  axle  of  your  chariot  wheels 
burns  too  soon." 

Mrs.  Canfield  was,  from  infancy,  fond  of  retirement,  and  pre- 
ferred solitude,  and  a  small  circle  of  warm  and  admiring 
friends,  to  all  the  pleasures  of  the  gay  and  fashionable  world. 
Though  modest  and  retiring,  and  almost  bashful,  when  curiosity 
was  investigating  her  merits,  or  she  thought  herself  gazed  at  by 
the  public,  yet  she  was  open,  free,  eloquent,  and  enchanting, 
when  she  was  with  her  chosen  few.     Nature  had  given  her  the 


120  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

power  of  a  satirist,  and  sometimes  she  was  induced  to  show 
that  she  possessed  it;  but  she  preferred  to  praise  the  good,  rather 
than  to  censure  the  blamable.  She  wrote  some  critical  notices 
of  reviews,  which  cut  deep,  and  were  felt  long.  She  was  not 
destined  to  long  life ;  for  some  time  previous  to  her  dissolu- 
tion, she  knew  that  her  life-blood  was  on  the  lees,  and  that  her 
days  would  soon  be  finished,  but  she  was  not  alarmed;  she 
knew  that  the  debt  of  nature  must  sooner  or  later  be  paid,  and 
she  was  ready  to  meet  it.  Mrs.  Canfield  by  some  was  called 
handsome,  others  who  think  prettiness  makes  beauty,  would  not 
concur  in  the  opinion.  Her  large  hazle  eye  beamed  with  the 
lustre  of  genius,  and  the  combination  of  her  features  gave  a  re- 
fined, intellectual  and  expressive  cast  to  her  countenance  when 
in  repose;  but  it  was  in  the  gentle  agitation  of  her  soul,  that  her 
beauty  was  seen  and  acknowledged.  Misfortune  had  made 
some  inroads  upon  her  face,  but  still  its  ethereal  character  was 
softened,  not  changed.  She  wasted  away  by  that  consumption 
which  comes  from  a  broken  heart,  and  which  gives  the  sufferer 
a  full  gaze  of  death,  as  he  approaches ;  but  she  saw  his  grim 
visage  without  dismay.  She  left  four  children  to  feel  the  want 
of  a  mother's  care ;  and  although  she  was  assured  that  others 
would  faithfully  discharge  the  duties  she  was  not  allowed  by 
divine  providence  to  pay  herself,  still  it  must  have  been  hard 
for  a  mother  to  part  with  four  infant  children.  The  most 
gifted  of  the  daughters  of  men  must  pass  away  like  the  humblest, 
and  the  places  that  knew  them  shall  know  them  no  more.  The 
most  delicate  and  lovely  of  all  earth-born  flowers  bursts  upon 
us  in  the  shades  of  night,  and  is  not,  when  the  morning  sun 
arises.  Many  a  cactus  grandijiorus  of  the  moral  and  intel- 
lectual world  appear  and  die,  known  only  to  a  few. 

It  should  be  remembered,  in  estimating  her  powers  of  mind, 
that  she  wrote  most  of  her  com^munications  for  the  Argus,  when 
poverty  had  sickened  her  heart  and  destroyed  the  harmony  of 
the  social  circle,  and  the  wolves  of  the  law  were  at  the  door ; 
yet,  there  is  no  sighing,  no  repining,  to  be  found  in  a  single  sen- 
tence from  her  pen.  Nothing  escaped  her  by  which  one  could 
divine  that  a  cloud  had  rested  upon  her  house,  or  a  shade  upon 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  121 

her  future  hopes.  Dr.  Pascalis  was  an  ambitious  man,  and 
indulged  the  fond  belief,  that  he  should  see  his  daughter  sought 
for,  and  distinguished,  in  the  first  circles  of  mind  and  accom- 
plishments, and  never  enjoyed  himself  a  moment  after  this  vision 
of  his  hopes  had  disappeared,  by  the  marriage  of  his  daughter 
to  Mr.  Canfield.  There  seems  to  be,  in  the  inscrutable  laws  of 
divine  providence,  in  his  moral  government,  a  blight  upon  the 
expectations  and  prospects  of  those  who  disregard,  the  deep 
feelings  of  parental  advice,  in  the  choice  of  a  partner  for  life. 
The  kindest  attentions  of  a  fond  husband,  and  the  innocent 
prattle  of  sweetest  babes,  and  all  the  enjoyment  of  fortune,  can- 
not efface  from  the  mind  of  a  woman  the  frowns  of  a  father  at 
her  disobedience,  long  after  the  face  on  which  the  frown  has 
settled,  has  mouldered  into  dust.  Mrs.  Canfield  died  on  the 
twenty-eighth  of  May,  1823.  Her  father  was  disconsolate  at 
her  loss,  and  never  again  resumed  his  cheerfulness,  or  his 
pursuits.  He  lingered  until  July,  1833,  when  he  followed 
his  daughter  to  the  grave.  Her  husband  died  in  September 
following.  He  had  collected  many  of  her  productions,  and 
intended  to  publish  them  in  one  or  two  volumes.  This,  pro- 
bably, will  not  be  done  at  present.  We  present  a  few  of  them, 
selected  more  in  regard  to  our  limits  than  to  their  respective 
merits.  The  old  money  broker  is  a  graphic  sketch,  bold,  severe 
but  just. 

THE  OLD  MONEY-BROKER. 

I  wish  I  could  make  you  catch  the  likeness, — his  face  pale 

and  tawny,  a  complexion  that  I  would  call  mooney,  it  looks  so 

much  like  badly  washed  Sheffield.     His  hair,  brushed  smooth,  is 

ashen  grey,  and  lies  close  to  his   head.     His  features  are  as 

settled   and   unruffled  as  if  moulded   in  bronze.       There  are 

scarcely  any  lashes  to  his  small  grey  eyes,  which  are  as  yellow 

as  weasels' ;  his  nose  is  sharp,  his  lips  thin ;  and  his  sight  always 

protected  against  the  glare  of  broad  day  by  a  green  lining  to  the 

front  of  his  old  jockey  cap.     He  speaks  with  a  low  voice,  and 

never  looses  his  temper  in  an  argument  with  his  customers.     He 

is  always  apparalled  in  sable.     What  his  age  may  be,  is  all  a 

11 


122  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

guess ;  you  cannot  tell  whether  he  has  become  old  before  his 
time,  or  whether  he  has  so  husbanded  his  youth  and  vigor  as  to 
be  wearing  them  out  at  the  slowest  possible  rate. 

His  room  is  as  neat  as  an  Englishman's  coat ;  but  every  thing 
in  it  is  threadbare,  from  the  coverlit  on  the  bed  to  the  green 
baize  of  the  secretary.  It  seems  the  cold  recess  of  one  of  those 
ancient  spinsters,  who  spend  the  livelong  day  in  rubbing  up  the 
old  furniture.  And  every  thing  in  it  is  defective  or  cross-grained; 
even  to  the  very  fire-brands,  in  the  coldest  winter's  day,  I  have 
never  seen  them  blazing;  but  they  smoulder  away  without  flame, 
half  smothered  in  the  bed  of  ashes. 

The  life  of  this  man  passes  away  as  noiselessly  as  the  sands 
of  an  antique  hour-glass.  From  the  hour  he  rises,  to  his  fit  of 
coughing  in  the  evening,  all  his  actions  are  as  regular  as  the 
movements  of  a  clock.  He  is  nothing  better  than  the  model  of 
a  man,  running  down  and  wound  up  from  sun  to  sun.  If  you 
touch  a  wood-louse,  crawling  over  a  piece  of  paper,  it  stops  and 
feigns  death ;  just  so,  if  a  carriage  rattles  by  when  this  man  is 
speaking,  he  pauses,  until  it  has  passed,  as  if  he  called  in  his 
powers,  lest  he  should  expend  the  smallest  degree  more  than 
what  is  exactly  necessary.  He  is  for  economising  the  vital 
movement,  and  concentrates  every  thought  and  feeling  within 
the  orbit  of  I  myself.  Sometimes  the  victims  on  whom  he 
preys,  talk  loud  in  his  room,  and  get  very  high  and  angry ;  and 
to  that  there  succeeds  an  unbroken  quiet ;  as  in  a  kitchen,  where 
the  pitiless  cook  is  not  to  be  turned  from  her  purpose  by  the 
noisy  clatter  of  a  duck,  who  suffers — and  all  is  once  more  still. 

Until  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  he  is  reserved  and  serious; 
but  about  eight  o'clock  he  unbends  from  his  business-like  gra- 
vity, and  the  man  of  notes  becomes  a  very  ordinary  personage, 
and  not  to  be  distinguished  in  a  crowd  from  any  other  man. 
The  change  seems  a  mystery  more  secret  than  the  transmuting 
of  gold ;  for,  indeed,  it  is  the  transmuting  of  a  heart  of  metal 
into  one  of  flesh.  Then  he  will  sometimes  rub  his  hands 
together,  and  has  a  mirthful  style  of  his  own,  in  a  small  way, 
with  a  cackling,  hollow  laugh,  that  can  be  seen  by  his  mouth 
agape,  but  Avhich  can   be  scarcely  heard.      But  in  his  gayest 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  123 

moments,  his  conversation  is  carried  on  in  monosyllables,  here  a 
word,  and  there  a  word,  for  assent  or  dissent. 

He  is  my  neighbor ;  that  is  to  say,  he  occupies  a  part  of  the 
house  where  I  lodge.  The  house  is  gloomy  and  damp.  It  has 
neither  yard-room  nor  court,  and  the  rooms  are  only  lighted  from 
the  street.  The  building  is  distributed  like  a  cloister,  into  rooms 
of  equal  dimensions,  tier  above  tier,  each  with  only  one  door, 
which  opens  on  a  long  and  common  corridor  or  hall,  lighted  by 
loop-hole  windows.  So  repulsive  is  the  aspect  of  the  house  that 
the  volatility  of  a  high  spirited  heir  generally  sobers  down  into 
something  like  dejection  before  he  reaches  the  landing  place  of 
my  fellow-lodger.  Well  do  the  house  and  he  resemble  each 
other — they  are  like  the  submarine  rock,  and  the  oyster  which 
clings  to  it.  His  whole  life  is  clandestine.  The  sole  being  with 
whom  he  holds  communion,  socially  speaking,  is  myself  Some- 
times he  comes  to  my  apartment  to  ask  for  a  little  fire,  to  borrow 
a  book  or  a  newspaper ;  and  of  evenings,  I  am  the  only  one 
permitted  to  enter  his  den,  or  to  whom  he  will  speak  of  his  own 
accord.  These  marks  of  his  confidence  are  the  fruits  of  a  seven 
years  neighborhood.  If  he  has  any  relatives  or  friends,  I  am 
ignorant  of  them;  neither  have  I  ever  seen  a  penny  in  his  posses- 
sion, but  I  know  that  he  has  an  immense  fortune  in  the  vaults  of 
the  bank.  But  any  how,  he  has  sometimes  been  a  martyr  to  his 
prudence;  one  day  he  chanced  to  have  gold  in  his  pocket,  and  a 
doubloon  made  its  way  out  and  fell  on  the  stairs;  a  fellow-tenant, 
who  was  coming  up  at  the  same  time,  picked  it  up  and  handed 
it  to  him — "  that  dosn't  belong  to  me  !"  said  he,  Avith  a  gesture 
of  repulse  and  surprise ;  "  I  never  have  gold — never  have  it 
about  me, — nor  in  my  house." 

He  makes  the  cofiee  for  his  own  breakfast  in  a  small  boiler  in 
the  jamb,  from  which  black  corner  of  the  hearth  the  utensil 
never  stirs.  His  dinner  is  brought  to  him  from  a  cook-shop. 
The  old  woman  who  attends  to  the  door,  at  a  fixed  hour,  regu- 
larly goes  up  stairs  and  arranges  his  room.  Finally,  by  one  of 
those  chances  which  Sterne  would  call  predestination,  my  fellow 
lodger,  who  so  much  interests  me,  is  named  Gobsech. 

If  the  social  virtues  are  a  religion,  this  man,  thought  I  to 


124     ^  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

myself,  must  be  pronounced  an  atheist  recreant.  To  satisfy 
myself,  concerning  the  mystery  of  his  nature  and  pleasures,  I 
determined  to  study  him  more  closely,  homo  duplex,  the  man 
and  his  mind.  I  like  facts  better  than  systems.  Instead,  then, 
of  being  discursive  in  theory.  I  shall  be  brief  in  narrative. 

Last  evening  I  paid  a  visit  to  this  curious  mortal,  who  has 
made  gold  his  all  in  all.  I  found  him  seated  in  his  easy  chair, 
still  and  fixed  as  a  statue,  and  his  eyes  rivetted  on  the  mantel- 
piece, where  he  seemed  to  be  reading  tables  of  discounts.  A 
hand  lamp,  smutty,  smoky,  with  a  foot  that  had  once  been  lacker- 
ed green,  cast  a  dull  red  glare  on  his  bloodless  complexion.  He 
lifted  his  eyes,  but  spoke  not ;  however,  as  my  chair  was  drawn 
out  beside  him,  it  was  evident  that  I  was  expected  and  welcome. 

"  Does  this  being,"  said  I  to  myself,  "ever  think?  Believes  he 
in  a  Deity,  Creator,  and  Preserver?  Does  he  know  what  sensi- 
bility is  ?  Is  woman  dear  to  him  ?  Have  emotions  of  pleasure 
ever  fluttered  or  unfixed  that  rigid  soul?"  Thus  did  I  pity  him 
as  an  object,  a  sick  man,  a  cripple.  Still,  I  felt,  that  with  a  million 
in  bank,  he  must  luxuriate  in  a  sense  of  power  that  was  equal  to 
possessing  the  whole  world  at  a  grasp. 

"  Good  day,  Gaffer  Gobsech !"  said  I  to  him. 

He  turned  his  face  towards  me,  and  slightly  drew  together 
his  broad,  black  eye-brows.  This  characteristic  inflexion  was 
equivalent  to  the  gayest  smile  of  one  of  warmer  temperament. 

"  You  are  as  dull  to-day,"  continued   I,  "  as  the  time  when 

they  told  you  of  the  failure  of the  bookseller.    Have  you 

met  any  bad  drafts  to-day — this  is  the  31st,  I  think — " 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  spoken  to  him  concerning 
money  matters.  He  looked  me  full  in  the  face ;  and,  with  that 
soft,  low-tuned  voice,  which  does  not  ill  resemble  the  irresolute 
breathings  on  the  flute  of  a  learner,  he  replied,  "  I  was  taking 
a  little  recreation." 

"  What,"  cried  I,  "  do  you  ever  take  recreation  ?" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  gave  me  a  look  of  pity,  and 
scorn. 

"  Do  you  think,"  said  he,  "  that  there  are  no  persons  of  fancy 
and  taste,  except  poets  that  print  verses  ?" 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  125 

Verses  in  such  a  head !  thought  I.  He  continued,  "  There  is 
none  whose  lot  is  more  animated  and  soul-stirring  than  mine. 

"  Listen,"  said  he.  "By  what  I  shall  tell  you  of  this  morning's 
adventures  you  will  be  able  to  form  an  idea  of  my  enjoyments." 

He  then  rose  and  bolted  the  door,  and  drew  before  it  an  old 
tapestry  curtain,  the  rusty  rings  of  which  grated  on  the  rod.  He 
seated  himself  beside  me,  and  began  thus  : 

"  This  morning  I  had  only  two  bills  to  collect,  because  I  had 
passed  off  all  the  others  yesterday  as  cash  to  my  customers. 
One  of  the  notes  was  given  me  by  a  dashing  young  fellow  who 
rode  in  a  tilbury.     It  was  signed  by  one  of  the  handsomest  ladies 

in  ,  the  wife  of  a  great  landholder  and  nobleman.     It 

was  drawn,  to  pay — I  dont  know  what  debt ;  the  amount  w^as 
two  hundred  crowns.     The  other  note  was  for  the  same  sum, 

and  drawn  by  a  lady  also,  for  it  was  signed  Fanny .     It 

came  into  my  possession  from  a  linen  draper.     The  drawer  of 

one  note  lived  in square,  and  the  other  in street. 

Could  you  but  know  the  romantic  conjectures  that  filled  my  mind 
as  I  left  my  home  this  morning!  What  proud  delight  thrilled 
my  bosom,  as  I  foresaw,  that  if  these  two  women  were  not  ready, 
they  would  receive  and  treat  me  with  as  much  respect  as  if  I 

were  their  own  father.     What  politenesses  Lady would 

shower  on  me  for  the  sake  of  two  hundred  crowns!  She  would 
stoop  to  address  me  with  an  affectionate  air,  she  would  speak  to 
me  in  those  soft  and  gentle  tones  which  she  reserves — perhaps 
for  the  endorser  of  the  draft ;  she  would  lavish  upon  me  words 
of  endearment,  fond  expressions ;  entreat  me  even,  and  I " 

Here  the  old  man,  facing  me,  gave  his  countenance  an  expres- 
sion, freezingly  obdurate  and  inexorable. 

"  And  I,"  he  resumed,  "  not  to  be  moved  !  There  I  am — like 
any  avenger,  like  conscience,  Avhich  is  not  to  be  put  off!  But 
let  us  have  done  Avith  my  reveries.  By  and  by  I  reached  the 
mansion  of  Lady . 

"  A  fernme  de  chambre  answered  me  that  her  ladyship  was 
sleeping.  '  Is  her  ladyship  sick  ?'  said  I.  '  No,'  she  replied, 
*  but  she  did  not  return  from  the  ball  last  night  until  three 
o'clock.' 


126  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

" '  My  name  is  Gobsech ;  tell  her  my  name,  I  shall  be  here  at 
noon.'  And  I  went  my  way,  after  leaving  marks  of  my  pre- 
sence on  the  sumptuous  carpeting  that  covered  the  staircase. 

"  When  I  reached street,  I  found  at  the  number,  a  house 

of  mean  appearance.  I  pushed  open  the  crazy  gangway  gate, 
and  saw  one  of  those  dark  court-yards  to  which  the  sun  never 
penetrates.  The  porter's  lodge  was  fairly  black  with  age  and 
neglect,  and  the  window  panes,  like  a  rusty  fustian  sleeve,  listed 
with  greasy  brown  stripes. 

"  I  asked  for  Miss  Fanny . 

*' '  She  is  out ;  but  if  you  come  about  a  draft,  the  money  is 
here.'  '  I'll  call  again,'  said  I ;  for  when  I  found  that  the  money 
was  ready,  I  wanted  to  know  a  little  more  of  the  young  lady ; 
I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  she  was  young.  I  passed  the 
morning  in  looking  at  the  engravings  displayed  in  the  print 
shops,  and  as  twelve  o'clock  struck,  I  was  just  crossing  the  anti- 
chamber  of  the  bed -room  of  my  Lady . 

*' '  Her  ladyship  has  but  just  rung,'  said  the  waiting-maid ;  •  I 
do  not  think  she  can  be  seen.' 

"  '  I  shall  wait,'  was  my  answer ;  and  I  sat  down  on  a  gilded 
sofa.  The  blind-doors  had  scarcely  been  more  than  opened,  w^hen 
the  femme  de  chambre  returned.  '  Will  you  walk  in,  sir.' — 
There  was  that  in  the  words  and  the  tone,  which  assured  me 
that  the  lady  fell  short. 

"  But  what  a  magnificent  woman  met  my  sight !  She  had  has- 
tily thrown  over  her  bare  shoulders  a  cashmere  shawl,  the  folds 
of  which  she  gathered  round  her  with  just  that  ravishing  art 
that  the  beautiful  proportions  of  her  bust  were  distinctly  mani- 
fest. A  tasty  morning-gown,  white  as  snow,  was  her  only  dress. 
Her  black  tresses  escaped,  here  and  there  in  rich  confusion, 
from  underneath  a  choice  Madras  handkerchief,  capriciously 
fastened  round  her  head  in  the  fashion  of  the  Creoles.  Her 
bed  was  a  scene  of  picturesque  disorder;  and  certainly  her 
slumbers  had  been  uneasy  and  agitated.  The  draperies  were 
cast  with  most  voluptuous  and  bewitching  negligence,  and  her 
pillow  lay  in  the  midst  of  the  eider-down  quilt  of  blue  silk,  the 
splendid  lace  relieving  admirably  from  the  azure  ground.     A 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  127 

painter  would  have  paid  a  price  to  have  stood  where  I  did.  On 
the  large  bear-skin,  spread  beneath  the  carved  mahogany  lion's 
claws  of  the  bedstead,  glittered  two  small  slippers  of  white  satin, 
thrown  one  here  the  other  there,  as  weary  feet  will  do,  on 
returning  from  a  ball.  Over  a  chair  lay  a  rumpled  dress,  the 
sleeves  hanging  to  the  floor.  Spider-net  stockings,  such  as  the 
slightest  breath  of  wind  might  carry  away,  were  twisted  about 
the  leg  of  an  easy  chair,  as  if  flung  there  from  the  hand ;  and 
along  a  couch  lay  a  pair  of  garters,  artificial  flowers,  diamonds, 
gloves,  a  nosegay  and  belt,  scattered  confusedly.  There  was  a 
delicate,  a  scarcely  perceptible  odor  of  aromatics  in  the  air. 
A  costly  fan,  half  open,  lay  on  the  mantel ;  the  drawers  of  the 
bureau  were  open.  This  mingled  luxury  and  carelessness, 
every  thing  rich  and  elegant,  yet  all  displaced,  impressed  the 
mind  with  a  sense  of  discomfort  in  the  midst  of  wealth.  The 
lassitude,  betrayed  by  the  countenance  of  her  ladyship,  was  in 
keeping  with  the  room  thus  strewed  with  the  cast  ofl'  attire  of 
the  festival.  Such  unseasonable  disorder  excited  my  contempt; 
the  same  objects  harmoniously  assembled  the  evening  previ- 
ously, might  have  raised  in  me  some  emotion.  They  seemed 
to  tell  of  a  heart  that  was  burning  with  a  passion  that  was 
blasted  by  conscience ;  they  showed  as  the  image  of  a  life  of 
show,  expense,  and  dissipation ;  a  tantalizing  pursuit  of  unsub- 
stantial pleasures.  There  were  some  spots  of  unnatural  redness 
on  the  face  of  the  lady,  that  set  ofl"  the  delicacy  of  her  skin ;  her 
features  seemed  swelled,  and  the  brown  circle  around  her  dark 
eyes,  rather  heavy.  But  nevertheless,  these  indications  of  folly 
did  not  lessen  her  beauty,  such  was  the  energy  of  health  and 
nature  that  seemed  glowing  in  her  whole  frame.  Her  eyes 
sparkled;  she  reminded  me  of  a  Herodias,  by  Leonardo  da 
Vinci — for  I  have  been  a  picture-broker  once.  She  was  full 
of  life  and  strength ;  nothing  meagre  in  the  contour,  or  feeble 
or  mean  in  the  outline  of  her  person,  scanted  the  sense  of 
admiration.  Her  appearance  inspired  love ;  and  yet  there  was 
a  power  developed  in  her  brilliant  and  haughty  consciousness  of 
beauty,  by  no  means  akin  to  the  fragility  and  delicacy  that  wins 
and  wakes  the  tender  passion.     It  was  just  the  style  to  please 


128  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

me ;  and  it  was  long  since  my  heart  had  throbbed  before ;  th 
value  of  the  note  was  already  paid ;  for  I  would  give  more  thai 
two  hundred  crowns  for  a  sensation  that  reminds  me  of  the  days 
of  my  youth. 

" '  Sir,'  said  she,  as  she  handed  me  a  chair,  '  will  you  have 
the  kindness  to  allow  me  time' 

•' ' Till  to-morrow  at  noon,  your  ladyship ;  I  have  not  the 


right,'  said  I,  as  I  folded  up  the  note,  'to  protest  before  the 
hour.' 

"  Then  I  said  within  myself — pay  for  your  luxury — pay  for 
your  rank — pay  for  your  happiness — pay  for  the  monopoly 
Avhich  you  enjoy.  For  wretches  without  bread,  there  are  courts, 
judges,  and  executioners;  but  for  you,  who  sleep  on  downy 
pillows  canopied  with  silk,  let  there  be  the  pangs  of  regret 
and  the  gnashing  of  the  teeth  hidden  under  a  smile,  and  the  cold 
clutch  upon  the  heart  of  a  concealed  anguish. 

"  '  A  protest !'  she  exclaimed,  '  do  you  intend  that !'  said  she, 
looking  at  me  with  a  Avild  gaze;  'will  you  have  so  little  con- 
sideration for  me  ?' 

"  '  If  the  king,  your  ladyship,  were  in  my  debt,  and  did  not  pay 
me,  I  would  make  him  take  the  benefit  of  the  act.' 

"  At  that  instant,  there  was  a  slight  tap  at  the  door  of  the  room. 
•  I  am  not  within  !'  imperiously  exclaimed  the  young  wife. 

"  '  Emily,  I  wish  very  much  to  see  you,'  said  a  voice  outside, 
'  Not  at  present  my  dear,'  she  replied,  in  a  tone  less  harsh,  but 
still  peremptory. 

"  '  O,  you  are  only  jesting,  for  you  are  speaking  to  a  stranger,' 
answered  the  voice,  and  the  door  was  suddenly  thrust  open  by 
a  man  who  must  have  been  her  husband.  Her  ladyship  gave 
me  a  look — I  understood  it ;  she  had  made  herself  my  slave. 
Ha  !  ha !  there  was  a  time  once,  when  I  was  stupid  enough  not 
to  protest. 

'"  What  is  your  business?'  said  the  count  to  me. 

"  I  saw  the  lady  shiver.  The  white  and  satiny  skin  of  her 
neck  became  rough,  or  as  we  say  in  common  parlance,  like 
goose  flesh.  As  for  me,  I  laughed,  without  ever  a  muscle 
moving. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  129 

"  •  This  person,'  said  she,  '  is  one  of  my  tradesmen.' 

*'  The  noble  gentleman  straightway  turned  his  back  upon  me, 
but  I  drew  the  note  half  way  out  of  my  pocket.  At  this  pitiless 
motion  the  young  lady  stepped  near  to  me,  and  offered  me  a 
diamond.     '  Take  it,'  said  she,  '  and  begone.' 

"  We  exchanged  the  two  values,  I  made  her  bow  and  retired. 
The  diamond  was  fully  worth  two  hundred  and  forty  crowns. 
I  passed,  in  going  out,  two  superb  chariots  that  the  lackeys 
were  cleaning,  and  footmen  brushing  their  liveries  and  polishing 
their  boots.  So,  said  I  to  myself,  this  is  what  brings  these  people 
to  me,  makes  them  steal  and  rob  millions  in  a  decent  way,  or 
else  betray  their  country.  That  they  may  not  make  their  shoe- 
soles  dusty,  they  go  over  head  and  ears  into  the  mud  !  Just  at 
that  very  moment  the  great  gate  was  thrown  open,  and  the 
young  man  who  gave  me  the  note,  passed  through  in  his  stylish 
tilbury.  As  soon  as  he  descended,  I  went  to  him  and  said, 
'  Here,  sir,  are  forty  crowns,  which  I  would  thank  you  to  hand 
to  her  ladyship,  and  tell  her  that  I  shall  keep  at  her  disposal,  for 
eight  days,  the  pledge  that  she  left  in  my  hands  this  morning.' 
He  took  the  forty  crowns  and  a  mocking  smile  stole  over  his 
countenance,  as  if  he  would  have  said,  '  She  has  paid,  has  she, 
so  much  the  better  !'  I  read  in  that  face  the  desolation  of  the 
countess. 

"  I  then  went  to street,  to  Miss  Fanny .   I  had  to 

ascend  a  very  narrow  stair-case,  and  when  I  reached  the  fifth 
story,  I  was  introduced  into  an  apartment,  newly  fitted  up,  where 
every  thing  wore  an  air  of  miraculous  neatness.  I  could  not 
detect  a  trace  of  dust  on  the  simple  furniture  of  the  chamber, 
where  I  was  received  by  Miss  Fanny.  She  was  young  and  city- 
bred  ;  her  head  youthful  and  elegant,  with  a  becoming  air  of 
gentility  and  kindness  ;  her  well  combed  chesnut  hair  w^as  fast- 
ened in  two  bow^s  on  her  temples,  and  shaded  a  pair  of  blue 
eyes  clear  as  crystal.  She  was  dressed  plain.  The  light,  falling 
through  small  white  curtains,  stretched  across  the  window,  threw 
a  softened  luster  over  her  angelic  face.  She  was  unfolding 
pieces  of  linen,  and  the  cuttings  of  linen  over  the  floor,  showed 
what  were  her  usual  occupations.    She  looked  the  very  personi- 


130  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

fication  of  solitude.  When  I  handed  her  the  note,  I  told  her 
that  she  had  not  been  at  home  when  I  first  called. 

"  '  But  I  left  the  money  with  the  porter,'  said  she. 

"  I  pretended  not  to  hear  her. 

" '  You  go  out  rather  early,  it  seems,'  said  I. 

"  '  I  am  away  from  home  but  rarely,'  replied  she,  '  but  work- 
ing so  late  at  night,  I  am  sometimes  obliged,  for  my  health,  to  go 
bathing.' 

"  At  a  glance  I  understood  her  history.  The  daughter,  doubt- 
less, of  a  family  once  rich,  and  obliged  by  adversity  to  labor  for 
her  subsistence.  There  was  an  indescribable  air  of  virtue,  of 
modesty,  and  native  nobleness  in  her  mien.  Every  thing  around 
her  partook  of  that  character.  It  seemed  that  I  was  set  down  in 
the  midst  of  an  atmosphere  of  sincerity  and  candor,  and  could 
breath  at  my  ease.  I  perceived  in  an  alcove  a  simple  couch  of 
painted  wood,  surmounted  by  a  crucifix,  and  then  a  branch  of 
box.  I  felt  affected,  and  wanted  to  leave  the  money  she  had  just 
handed  me,  and  the  diamond  of  the  countess ;  but  I  thought  the 
present  would  perhaps  be  doing  her  a  harm ;  and  every  thing 
considered,  I  thought  it  best  to  keep  back  both ;  the  more  so,  as 
the  diamond  is  worth  two  hundred  and  fifty  crowns  for  an  actress 
or  a  bride.  And  then,  as  like  as  not,  she  too  has  some  fellow  of 
a  cousin,  who  would  wear  the  diamond  as  a  breast-pin,  and  use 
up  the  two  hundred  and  forty  crowns  in  his  own  way.  When 
you  came  in,  I  was  just  thinking  what  a  good  little  wife  Fanny 

would  make  for  somebody.     It  will  be  a  fortnight  too, 

before  I  shall  get  that  countess  out  of  my  head,  and  she  has  one 
foot,  at  least  over  the  brink  of  perdition." 

"Well !"  cried  he,  resuming  the.  thread  of  his  reflections  after 
a  moment  of  deep  silence,  during  which  I  had  been  watching 
his  looks,  "  think  you  this  is  nothing  to  penetrate  thus  into  the 
most  secret  folds  of  the  human  heart,  and  thus  espouse  the  for- 
tunes of  others,  and  see  their  lives  exposed  like  a  nudity  to  your 
searching  eye  ?  It  is  a  spectacle  of  multifarious  shiftings ;  ghastly 
wounds  eating  into  life  at  the  core  ;  silent,  but  death-dealing  sor- 
rows ;  or  scenes  of  love  ;  or  distresses,  over  which  the  waves  of 
the  river  are  waiting  to  close;  or  rapture^;  of  the  youthful  pulse 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  131 

that  will  end  in  the  g-ibbet  and  the  axe ;  the  insane  laughter  of 
despair ;  the  sumptuous  and  splendid  revel ;  a  tragedy  yester- 
day— a  father  of  a  family  who  suffocated  himself  with  charcoal, 
because  he  could  not  get  bread  for  his  children ;  to-morrow  it 

will  be  some  farce  or  other,  some  young-  C r  playing  off 

the  pranks  of  Pea  Green  Jacket,  with  variations.  I  have  heard 
many  brags  of  the  force  of  parliamentary  eloquence ;  I  have 
listened  to  one  at  least  of  those  boasted  orators — he  never  moved 
me ;  but  often  has  it  happened,  that  a  loving  young  girl,  in  the 
holy  zeal  of  a  plighted  attachment ;  an  aged  merchant  on  the 
brink  of  a  failure ;  a  mother  wishing  to  conceal  the  fault  of  a 
son  ;  a  laborer  famishing  with  hunger ;  or  a  politician  without 
principle,  have  made  my  soul  reel  and  shudder  with  the  potency 
of  their  language.  They  were  sublime  actors,  and  played  for 
me  alone.  But  I  am  not  to  be  played  upon.  My  eye  is  as  keen 
as  ubiquity !  I  read  the  very  heart.  Nothing  is  hidden  from 
me.  What  do  I  lack  ?  I  have  every  thing  that  is  wanted.  No- 
thing is  refused  or  denied  to  him  who  has  the  control  of  the 
purse  strings,  if  there  be  enough  in  the  purse  for  temptation. 
Ministers  and  their  consciences  can  be  bought — there's  power 
for  you ;  accomplished  and  delicate  women,  ay,  and  their  hearts 
too,  can  be  bought — there's  pleasure  and  beauty  for  you.  In 
fact  everything  is  on  sale,  and  money  can  buy  every  thing.  We 
are  kings,  without  title,  incognito,  I  grant  you ;  but  the  kings 
of  life,  for  what  is  existence  without  money  ?  But,  Avhile  I  have 
enjoyed  every  thing,  I  have  become  sated  with  every  thing. 
There  are  thirty  of  us,  such  as  I,  in  this  city.  A  common  inte- 
rest is  the  tie  between  us ;  we  meet  weekly  in  a  coffee-house  in 

street,  and  form  a  sort  of  board  of  finance,  where  every 

mystery  connected  with  the  rise  and  fall  of  stocks,  and  interest, 
is  divulged,  and  canvassed.  There  is  no  show  of  fortune  that 
can  blind  us,  we  have  a  key  to  the  secrets  of  every  family,  and 
we  keep  a  sort  of  black  book,  in  Avhich  Ave  minute  down  the 
most  important  items  concerning  public  credit,  bankers,  and 
trade.  We  analyze  the  most  indiiferent  actions.  We  are  the 
casuists  of  exchange.  Like  me,  also,  the  rest  care  for  power 
and  money,  not  so  much  to  exercise,  as  to  possess  them. 


132  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

"  Here,"  continued  he,  pointing  around  to  his  cold,  and  narrow 
apartment,  "  here  the  fiery  lover,  who  is  jealous  of  a  word,  and 
draws  his  sword  for  a  speech — here  he  begs  with  folded  hands ; 
here  begs  the  haughtiest  merchant ;  here  begs  the  beauty,  vainest 
of  the  vain ;  here  begs  the  fiercest  soldier,  the  most  famous  ar- 
tist, the  writer  whose  name  is  pledged  to  posterity  and  renown  ; 
and  here,"  added  he,  laying  his  hand  on  his  forehead,  "  is  the 
balance  that  weighs,  not  only  in  a  few  solitary  cases,  the  things 
to  come,  but  for  every  one,  for  all! — 

"  Do  you  still  think  there  are  no  recreations,  no  amusements 
to  be  enjoyed  under  that  blank  and  dingy  mask,  whose  unalter- 
able stillness  has  so  often  excited  your  surprise?"  asked  he, 
stretching  his  neck,  and  advancing  nearer  to  me  his  pallid 
countenance,  which  smelt  of  silver. 

I  returned  to  my  room,  stupified.  In  my  fancy,  the  little 
withered,  spindly  old  man,  grew  in  dimensions,  until  he  changed 
into  a  fantastic  apparition — like  the  spirit  of  gold  incarnate.  The 
perfidies  of  life,  and  my  fellow-men,  weighed  upon  me  with 
horror.  Can  it  indeed,  be  true,  that  every  thing  thus  resolves 
itself  into  money,  money,  money  ? 

TH^:  FIRST  EXCURSION  OF  THE  STEAMBOAT  WASHINGTON,  CAPT.  E.  S.  BUNKER. 

O'er  the  bright  waters  haste  we ;  and  our  speed 
The  wind's  capricious  aid  disdains  to  heed  ; 
Our  galley's  haughty  prow  the  wave  divides, 
And  mocks  each  hidden  current's  swelUng  tides, 
As  with  instinctive  life,  on  flies  she  fast. 
While  idly  travels  in  her  wake  the  blast. 
Like  sea-born  Leviathan  risen  to  day 
From  ocean's  caves  along  its  breast  to  play. 
That  strong  in  giant  bulk,  defying  fear, 
Sunders  the  rolling  surf  in  his  career; 
So  moves  she  docile  to  the  secret  helm. 
And  walks  with  rushing  step  the  liquid  realm. 

We  pass  blue  hills  and  shores,  and  mark  the  spires 
Slow  sinking,  where  the  city  dim  retires; — 
That  isle-enthroned  city  of  our  pride, 
Beneath  whose  feet  the  circhng  waters  wide 
Meet  and  pay  homage !— Think  ye  when  the  crew 
Of  Hudson's  barque,  o'er  seas  untried  that  flew. 
Had  toward  our  bay  their  dubious  errand  steered, 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  1«5^ 

Still  westward  on,  'till  Navesink  hills  appeared, 

(Whose  lofty  peaks  above  their  cloudy  zone 

Arose  the  beacons  of  a  land  unknown.) 

That  our  fair  river's  estu'ry  they  found, 

Its  graceful  sweep,  the  verdant  shores  around; 

With  sunny  slopes  that  frequent  spreads  between 

The  lonely  shore's  primeval  forest  green ; 

The  bay's  broad  glittering  scope,  unbroken  save 

Where  fairy  islets  specked  the  sparkling  wave ; 

And  Manna-halo's  cape  of  sands,  where  rude 

Spoke  the  loud  breakers  in  that  solitude, 

Commingling  'mid  the  ancient  rocks  that  based 

The  isle,  and  fenced  the  sapping  water's  waste; 

While  east  and  west,  a  river's  tribute  given 

To  the  fierce  sun,  like  incense  smoked  to  heaven, 

And  fed  the  sailing  clouds,  deep-freighted  there, 

The  fountain's  wealth  o'er  ample  cUmes  to  bear, — 

Think  ye  that  even  the  careless  sailor  saw 

This  scene,  and  thrilled  not  with  dehght  and  awe ; 

Gazing  with  steady  rapture  till  the  air 

Seemed  kindling  round  him  into  visions  rare ! 

Well  may  we  love  these  glorious  waves,  and  range 
Proudly  in  fancy  o'er  the  wondrous  change. 
Since  first  they  yielded  to  the  keel,  and  flew 
O'er  their  light  foam  the  frail  and  fleet  canoe, 
Whose  slender  form  upon  its  venturous  way, 
Seemed  like  a  sea-mew  darting  through  the  spray, 
Till  now  a  thousand  sails  along  them  sweep, 
And  this  broad  pile  that  bulwarked  on  the  deep. 
Glides  on  her  mission  as  a  floating  isle. 
By  shores  where  all  the  social  triumphs  smile ; 
Herself  a  marvel  as  she  wheels  afar. 
By  Fulton's  mighty  spell,  an  ocean-car. 
Well  may  we  number,  with  admiring  thought, 
The  slow  advances  time  and  science  wrought, 
Since  enterprise,  each  danger  prompt  to  brave, 
With  her  first  feeble  means  essayed  the  wave, — 
Since  the  small  skiff,  while  toiled  the  laboring  oar, 
Crept  o'er  the  wave,  and  hugged  the  safer  shore; 
Till,  as  the  weary  boatman  marked  the  light 
And  waving  pinion  speed  the  sea-gull's  flight, 
And  felt  his  arm  grow  powerless  as  he  plied. 
While  adverse  beat  the  north  wind's  airy  tide; 
Fired  with  new  hopes  he  shaped  the  spreading  sail. 
And  winged  his  bark  to  drift  before  the  gale  : 
Thus,  with  alternate  progress  and  delay, 
Ages  on  ages  saw  his  timid  way 

Tread  scarce  more  firm  than  while  the  world  was  young, 
Till  when,  at  Fulton's  call,  invention  sprung 
12 


\u 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Instant  to  being,  in  fiill  strength,  and  swayed 
Her  ready  vassal  steam's  transcendent  aid  1 

Now  goes  each  good  ship  proudly,  and  alone 

Parts  from  the  shore,  and  roves  from  zone  to  zonet 

But  ours,  with  course  as  bold,  prepared  to  sweep 

Where  roll  the  billows  of  the  vasty  deep, 

Shall  'mid  the  calm,  where  dies  the  wavering  breeze. 

And  not  a  breath  disturbs  the  languid  seas. 

Proceed  with  tireless  prow,  and  onward  bear 

Her  peopled  decks  and  fraught  saloons,  where'er 

Her  track  shall  bend,  if  hardy  Bunker  steer ; 

He,  veteran  sailor,  trusty  timoneer ! 

Whose  practised  eye  has  made  the  waves  his  chart; 

Still  firm  to  duty's  post,  whose  faithful  heart 

With  dauntless  skill  the  wildest  storms  has  braved, 

And  still  his  favored  ship  through  perils  saved; 

The  mariner,  with  steady  soul  endued, 

The  weather  beaten  ancient  of  the  flood  !       F .  1825. 

THE  DEAD  TRUMPETER,  A  DESIGN  BY  HORACE  VERNET. 

Forth  came  he, — gallant  and  firm  his  breast ; 
And  on  fiery  charger  in  trappings  dress'd 
His  clarion  held  by  a  baldric  gay. 
He  led  the  van  on  that  famous  day. 

A  warning  he  blew,  whose  brazen  note 
Not  only  rung  through  woods  remote ; 
Not  only  startled  the  peaceful  hills ; 
Echoed  not  only  along  the  rills. 

But  a  high  tone  it  roused  in  the  bold  of  heart ; 
The  mettled  barbs  at  the  signal  start ; 
Its  defiance-peal,  as  a  shrill  death-wail, 
Died  in  the  bosoms  of  matrons  pale. 

Fiercely  and  well  rose  the  martial  strain 
For  the  brave  who  met  on  that  battle-plain  ; 
As  a  voice  of  glory  it  came,  and  stirred 
Proudly  the  spirit  of  them  that  heard. 

A  cohort  of  braves  at  that  trumpet's  call, 
To  the  onset  hastened  with  sabre  and  ball; 
It  raised  a  tempest  it  could  not  still, 
They  charge  at  the  summons  so  stern  and  shrill. 

Their  foremost  the  deadly  shots  arrest, 

And  down  swept  many  a  haughty  crest : 

Loud  rung  the  rally ;  their  refluent  shock 

Ebbed,  broken  again,  as  the  waves  from  the  rook. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  135 

Still  did  the  barbarous  clarion  bray 
"  Through  yon  serried  foot-band  ye  must  find  way  ;" 
For  the  hundredth  time  has  pealed  that  blast 
And  the  phalanx  line  is  broken  at  last. 

Vain  then  the  defence  of  the  bristling  steel ! 
Slaughter  and  rout  sped  with  armed  heel, 
And  the  tide  of  battle  that  rolled  away 
Left  but  shivered  weapons  and  breathless  clay. 

But  where  was  the  bugle-paean  to  sound 
Gaul's  tale  of  triumph  more  wide  around  ! 
He  who  should  breathe  it  so  full  and  free, 
The  dauntless  trumpeter — where  is  he  1 

His  comrades  paused  for  his  cheering  strain, 
It  came  not — therefore  they  knew  him  slain. 
He  has  fallen,  they  said,  as  they  looked  a  space, 
Then  rushed  they  on  in  the  dreadful  chase. 

But  where  was  he?  on  his  stricken  steed 
From  the  conflict  turning  aside  with  heed  : 
The  death-wound  struck  him — with  slackened  rein 
His  staggering  courser  had  crossed  the  plain. 

By  a  lonely  hut  with  failing  strength, 
Unnerved  and  trembling  he  stopped  at  length ; 
A  streamlet  swept  through  the  turf  beside. 
And  there  had  the  trumpeter  fallen  and  died. 

Like  one  who  has  sunk  in  his  war- array 

To  sleep  o'ertired,  outstretched  he  lay  ;  •> 

But  the  useless  helm  from  his  brow  had  rolled, 
And  the  shot  pierced  temple  death's  havoc  told. 

*Twas  saddening  to  see  war's  harness  gay 
On  the  heavy  frame  of  helpless  clay  ; 
And  to  mark  the  hamlet's  portal  barred, 
Nor  comrade  nor  foe  the  dead  to  regard. 

And  sadder  to  view  the  stiffening  steed. 
Wounded  and  faint,  round  his  master  plead; 
The  reins,  though  broken,  the  death-grasp  held 
And  the  tempting  streamlet  too  distant  welled. 

And  how  he  stretched  forth  his  drooping  head, 
With  anxious  eye  fixed  full  on  the  dead ; 
Who  lay  still  while  those  sounds  of  cheer. 
The  loud  recall-notes,  rung  far  and  near. 


136  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

And  his  faithful  dog  on  his  track  had  crept, 
Though  shifting  squadrons  the  field  had  swept ; 
In  vain  had  he  howled  for  succor,  and  now 
Cowering  he  moaned  as  he  licked  the  brow. 

That  brow  in  the  morn  that  was  braced  and  bright, 
Smooth  with  high  hope  and  the  joy  of  the  fight, 
How  deathy  and  wan  with  the  clammy  dew, 
Its  bony  mould  and  its  pallid  hue  ! 

Was  it  sure  as  sudden,  the  mortal  blow  7 
Or  say,  did  the  lonely  sufferer  knov 
His  fiery  pangs,  who  neglected  lies, 
And  fain  would  live  and  yet  feels  he  dies. 

While  wavereth  dim  life's  latest  spark 
Feels  the  ear  deaden,  the  eye  grow  dark ; 
Waits  for  the  aid  that  may  yet  restore, 
In  frenzy  waits  it,  and — feels  no  more ! 

--      Who  weeps  the  slain  in  the  martial  joust, 

Where  force  bears  down  an  host  to  the  dust  1 
There  the  stony  eye  can  but  warm  to  note 
What  banners  stoop  and  what  standards  float. 

So  while  I  read  of  that  chieftain  gone, 
Earth's  mightiest  victor,  Napoleon, 
Who  strode  through  Europe's  realms  dismayed, 
From  throne  to  thone  unchecked,  unstayed. 

In  admiring  glow  I  gave  no  thought 
To  the  myriad  victims,  the  tools  that  wrought, 
Twas  thine,  Vernet !  o'er  the  least  of  all 
To  force  one  natural  tear  to  fall. 

For  thou  led'st  my  heart  to  the  plaintive  scene. 
Where  the  footsteps  of  glory  have  lately  been, 
Sowing  the  earth  with  each  ruined  tie ; 
And  the  sumless  wasting  of  agony. 

ToS****  L*** 

By  those  blue  eyes  that  shine 
Dovelike  and  innocent. 
Yet  with  a  lustre  to  their  softness  lent 

By  the  chaste  fire  of  guileless  purity ; 

And  by  the  rounded  temples'  symmetry ; 

And  by  the  auburn  locks,  disposed  apart, 
(Like  Virgin  Mary's  pictured  o'er  the  shrine,) 
In  simple  negligence  of  art; 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  137 

By  the  young  smile  on  lips,  whose  accents  fall 
With  dulcet  music,  bland  to  all, 
Like  downward  floating  blossoms  from  the  trees 
Detached  in  silver  showers  by  playful  breeze ; 
And  by  thy  cheek,  ever  so  purely  pale. 
Save  when  thy  heart  with  livelier  kindness  glows ; 
By  its  then  tender  bloom,  whose  dehcate  hue. 

Is  like  the  morning's  tincture  of  the  rose, 
The  snowy  veils  of  the  gossamer  mist  seen  through  ; 
And  by  the  flowing  outline's  grace, 
Around  thy  features  like  a  halo  thrown. 

Reminding  of  that  noble  race 
Beneath  a  lovelier  heaven,  in  kindlier  climates  known, 
Whose  beauty,  both  the  moral  and  the  mortal. 
Stood  at  perfection's  portal 

And  still  doth  hold  a  rank  surpassing  all  compare; 
By  the  divinely  meek  and  placid  air 
Which  witnesseth  so  well  that  all  the  charms, 

It  lights  and  warms. 
Though  but  the  finer  fashion  of  the  clay 
Deserve  to  be  adored,  since  they 
Are  emanations  from  a  soul  allowed 

Thus  radiantly  to  glorify  its  dwelhng 
That  goodness  \\ke  a  visible  thing  avowed, 
May  awe  and  win,  and  temper  and  prevail : 

And  by  all  these  combined  ! 
I  call  upon  thy  form  ideal. 

So  deeply  in  my  memory  shrined, 
To  rise  before  my  vision,  like  the  real. 
Whenever  passion's  tides  are  swelhng, 
Or  vanity  misleads,  or  discontent 
Rages  with  wishes,  vain  and  impotent. 
Then,  while  the  tumults  of  my  heart  increase, 

I  call  upon  thy  image — then  to  rise 
In  sweet  and  solemn  beauty,  like  the  moon, 
Resplendent  in  the  firmament  of  June, 

Through  the  still  hours  of  night  to  lonely  eyes. 
I  gaze  and  muse  thereon,  and  tempests  cease — 
And  round  me  falls  an  atmosphere  of  peace. 

A  SKETCH. 

That  fair  Euterpe ! — each  brown  tress 
With  budding  orange-blooms  was  twined  ; 

Full  did  the  clustering  ringlets  press. 
Above  a  brow  were  sate  enshrined 
Instinct  divinity  of  mind  ; 

But  o'er  those  smoothest  temples  shone, 
Amid  their  lofty  grace,  revealings 
Of  such  compassionate,  ferved  feelings, 

'Twas  all  but  love  to  look  thereon, 
12* 


138  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

I  marked  Euterpe  'mid  the  bright 
Gay  mazes  of  the  festal  night. 
Beside  her  smiled  the  one,  on  whom 
Her  frank  eye  coveted  to  rest; 
Careless  he  smiled— I  marked  the  bloom 
Desert  her  cheek,  a  deep  sigh  rend  her  breast ; 
'Twas  with  gay  scorn  he  smiled,  as  though  he  deemed 
He  might  command  her  heart ;  and  proudly  seemed 
To  say,  thou  may'st  love  on,  but  I  shall  be 
Unmoved  by  these  sweet  arts  to  conquer  me. 
And  she  whose  tameless  graces  speak, 
Like  the  hues  rushing  o'er  her  cheek, 
Of  mind  all  fancy,  heart  all  glow, 
Stood  fixed  and  mute,  but  not  with  wo — 
Her  cheek  wore  angel's  wavering  stain. 
Her  lip,  slow  smiling,  breathed  disdain. 
As  when  the  stubborn  heart  for  pride 
Would  fain  dishonoring  weakness  fling  aside. 
Her  heart  that  heaved  with  sudden  swell. 
'Neath  snow  white  drapery  rose  and  fell ; 
But  though  such  simple  guize  enzoned, 

The  haughty  brow,  the  bitter  smile. 
Gave  her  a  mien  like  queen  dethroned, 

Who  tasks  a  traitor  for  his  guile. 
Did  he  not  shrink  and  faltering  turn 
Who  gave  such  anger  leave  to  burn  7 
Anger — oh  no,  he  knew,  in  vain 
Might  the  all-consciouS  slave  resist  the  chain. 
Not  once  the  large  and  fringed  lid 
Her  sparkling  eye  declining  hid  ; 
Nor  upwards  with  beseeching  gaze. 
Strove  she  those  darkening  orbs  to  raise, 
But  on  the  mocker  full  they  bent 
Till  their  indignant  flame  was  spent: 
And  dew-bright,  o'er  their  evil  glare. 
Stole  a  mild  shade,  like  an  eclipse 
Falling  through  sun  light  air. 

Then  sealed  in  meekness  were  her  lips; 
But  in  the  sad  solemnity 

Of  her  submissive  mien,  I  read, 
How  love's  enthusiast  sophistry 

To  fevered  fortitude  misled, 
And  justified  the  wrong  with  lavish  clemency, 
"  Alas,"  her  sighs  to  fancy  said, 
"  Let  me  not  blame  unkindly, — wise  too  late ; 
Is  not  love  doom  1  and  when  was  passion  felt 
Without  full  measure  of  this  ani,uish  dealt? 
Man  too  is  haughty  ever :— this  is  fate." 
Such  the  poor  heart !  love's  ills  his  sweets  transcend. 
And  still  the  "wisest,  like  the  weakest  bend. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  139 

Anne  Clifford,  sole  daughter  and  heir  to  George,  earl  of 
Cumberland,  was  born  at  Skipton  Castle,  at  Craven,  January 
30th,  1589,  and  married  first,  to  Richard,  Lord  Buckhurst,  by 
whom  she  had  three  sons,  and  two  daughters.  She  married, 
secondly,  Phillip  Herbert,  earl  of  Pembroke  and  Montgomery, 
by  Avhom  she  had  no  issue.  One  of  her  first  structures  was  a 
pillar  in  the  highway,  where  she  and  her  mother  took  their  last 
farewell.  She  also  erected  a  monument  to  her  tutor  Daniel,  the 
poet,  and  another  to  Spencer,  besides  which,  she  founded  two 
hospitals,  and  repaired  or  built  seven  churches.  But  the  most 
singular  article  in  her  life  is  the  letter  which  she  wrote  to  Sir 
Joseph  Williamson,  secretary  of  state  after  the  restoration,  who 
had  presumed  to  recommend  a  candidate  for  the  borough  of 
Appleby.  The  reply  of  the  countess  was  Avorthy  of  her  ances- 
tors :  "  I  have  been  bullied  by  an  usurper,  I  have  been  neglected 
by  a  court,  but  I  will  not  be  dictated  to  by  a  subject;  your  man 
shan't  stand.  Anne,  Dorset,  Pembroke,  and  Montgomery." 
This  letter  has  excited  a  general  admiration;  the  reason  of 
which  is  thus  explained  by  Dr.  Campbell,  in  his  "  Philosophy 
of  Rhetoric."  "  We  shall  find,"  says  he,  "  that  the  very  same 
sentiment  expressed  diffusely,  will  be  admitted  barely  to  be 
just ;  expressed  concisely,  will  be  admired  as  spirited." 

Mr.  Pennant  characterises  lady  Anne  Clifford  as  the  most 
eminent  person  of  her  age  for  intellectual  accomplishments,  for 
spirit,  magnificence,  and  deeds  of  benevolence  ;  and  he  has  given 
a  particular  description  of  two  portraits  of  her,  in  the  side  leaves 
of  a  family  picture.  _  Both  the  paintings  are  full  lengths ;  one 
representing  her  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  and  the  other  in  her 
middle  age,  in  the  state  of  widowhood.  The  books  in  the  first 
of  these  pictures  inform  us  of  the  fashionable  course  of  reading 
among  people  of  rank  in  her  days.  There  are  among  them 
Eusebius,  St.  Augustine,  Sir  Pliillip  Sidney's  Arcadia,  Godfrey 
of  Boulogne,  the  French  Academy,  Comden,  Ortellius,  and 
Agrippa  on  the  Vanity  of  Occult  Sciences.  The  books  in  the 
second  picture  consist  wholly  of  the  Bible,  Charron  on  Wisdom, 
and  pious  treatises.  A  narrative,  or  rather,  a  journal  of  her 
own  life,  was  left   by  the  countess,  consisting   principally  of 


140  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

minute  details  of  the  petty  occurrences  of  a  retired  life,  the 
greater  number  of  which  are  tedious,  uniform,  and  but  little 
interesting. 

This  lady  expired  at  Brougham,  March  23d,  1675,  after  a 
few  days  illness,  in  the  eighty-sixth  year  of  her  age.  She  was 
interred,  April  14th,  at  Appleby,  in  Westmoreland,  under  the 
monument  she  had  erected.  Her  funeral  sermon  was  preached 
at  Appleby,  by  Dr.  Edward  Reinbow,  bishop  of  Carlisle,  from 
this  verse  :  "  Every  wise  woman  buildeth  her  house." 


Maria  Maddelena  Fernandez  Gorilla,  a  celebrated  im- 
provisatrice,  was  born  at  Pistoca,  in  1740,  and  gave,  in  her 
infancy,  the  most  unequivocal  marks  of  uncommon  genius  ;  and 
her  acquirements  in  natural  and  moral  philosophy,  and  ancient 
and  modern  history,  were  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  very  remarka- 
ble. At  the  age  of  twenty  she  began  to  display  that  talent  for 
extempore  composition,  which  is  so  common  in  Italy,  and  so  un- 
common elsewhere  as  to  be  questioned.  Of  this  lady's  abilities, 
how^ever,  we  are  not  permitted  to  doubt,  if  we  give  any  credit  to 
the  popularity  she  gained  among  all  classes,  and  especially 
among  persons  of  the  highest  rank.  The  empress  Maria 
Theresa  offered  her  the  place  of  female  poet  laureate  at  court, 
which  she  accepted,  and  went  to  Vienna  in  1765.  Previous  to 
this  she  had  married  Signer  Morelli,  a  gentleman  of  Leghorn. 
At  Vienna  she  wrote  an  epic  poem  and  a  volume  of  lyric  poetry, 
both  of  which  she  dedicated  to  the  empress.  She  attracted  the 
enthusiastic  admiration  of  Metastasio  himself,  and  rendered  the 
taste  for  Italian  poetry  more  predominant  than  it  had  ever  been 
in  Vienna.  Soon  after  1774,  she  settled  at  Rome,  and  was 
admitted  a  member  of  the  Academy  of  the  Arcadi,  under  the 
name  of  Gorilla  Olympica,  and  for  some  time  continued  to  charm 
the  inhabitants  of  Rome,  by  her  talents  in  improvisation.  At 
length,  when  Pius  VI.  became  pope,  he  determined  that  she 
should  be  solemnly  crowned,  an  honor  which  had  been  granted 
to  Petrarch  only.  An  account  of  this  singular  transaction, 
beautifully  printed  at  Parma,  by  Bodini,  in  1779,  contains  her 
diploma  and  all  the  discourses,  poems,  sonnets,  &c.,  written  on 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  141 

the  occasion,  with  the  examination  she  underwent,  concerning 
her  knowledge  upon  the  most  important  subjects  upon  which 
she  was  required  to  Improvisare,  or  treat  extemporaneously  in 
verse,  publicly  at  the  campidoglio,  in  Rome.  The  Italian  title 
of  this  narrative  is,  "  Atti  della  solenne  coronazione  fatta  in  cam- 
pidoglio, della  insigne  poetesia  D-  na,  Maria  Maddalena  Morilli 
Fernandez  Pistoiese,  Tragli  Arcadi  Gorilla  Olympica."  Twelve 
members  of  the  Arcadian  Academy  were  selected  out  of  thirty, 
publicly  to  examine  the  new  edition  of  the  Tenth  Muse,  which 
has  so  often  been  dedicated  to  ladies  of  poetical  and  literary  tal- 
ents. Three  several  days  were  allotted  for  this  public  exhibition 
of  poetical  powers,  on  the  following  subjects;  sacred  history, 
revealed  religion,  moral  philosophy,  natural  history,  metaphy- 
sics, epic  poetry,  legislation,  eloquence,  mythology,  fine  arts,  and 
pastoral  poetry. 

In  the  list  of  examiners  appeared  a  prince,  an  archbishop, 
three  monsigneurs,  the  pope's  physician,  abati,  avocati,  all  of 
high  rank  in  literature  and  criticism.  These,  severally,  gave 
her  subjects,  which,  besides  a  readiness  at  versification,  in  all  the 
measures  of  Italian  poetry,  required  science,  reading,  and  know- 
ledge of  every  kind.  In  all  these  severe  trials  she  acquitted 
herself  to  the  satisfaction  and  astonishment  of  all  the  principal 
personages,  clergy,  literati,  and  foreigners  then  resident  at 
Rome;  among  the  latter  was  the  brother  of  George  III.,  the 
duke  of  Gloucester.  Near  fifty  sonnets,  by  different  poets,  with 
odes,  canzoni,  terze  rime,  attave,  canzonette,  &c.,  produced  on  the 
subject  of  the  event,  are  inserted  at  the  end  of  this  narrative  and 
description  of  the  order  and  ceremonials  of  this  splendid,  honor- 
able, and  enthusiastic  homage,  paid  to  poetry,  classical  taste, 
talents,  literature,  and  the  fine  arts. 

This  renowned  lady  merits  some  notice  as  a  musician,  as  well 
as  poetess,  as  she  sang  her  own  verses  to  simple  tunes,  with  a 
sweet  voice,  and  in  good  taste.  She  likewise  played  on  the 
violin;  but  at  Florence,  in  1770,  she  was  accompanied  on  the 
violin  by  the  celebrated  and  worthy  pupil  of  Tartini,  Nordini. 

Towards  the  close  of  1780  she  left  Rome,  with  the  intention 
of  passing  the  remainder  of  her  life  in  Florence,  nor  did  she 


142  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

practice  her  art  much  longer,  aware  that  youth  and  beauty  had 
added  charms  to  her  performance  which  she  no  longer  pos- 
sessed. She  died  at  Florence,  November  8th,  1800.  This  tal- 
ent for  extemporaneous  poetry,  is  not  so  rare  as  we  imagine. 
I  have  known  several  specimens  of  this  talent,  practiced  only 
before  a  few  friends,  but  if  it  had  been  cultivated,  would  have 
astonished  the  literati. 


SuLPiciA,  a  Roman  poetess,  who  lived  in  the  reign  of  the 
emperor  Domitian,  to  whom  she  addressed  a  poem  on  conju- 
gal love,  which  is  highly  praised  by  Martial,  in  one  of  his 
epigrams,  but  unfortunately  it  is  not  extant.  The  only  specimen 
remaining  of  her  productions  is  a  fragment  of  a  satire  against 
Domitian,  composed  on  the  promulgation  of  his  edict  for  ban- 
ishing the  philosophers  from  Rome.  This  piece  may  be  found 
in  the  "  Corpus  Poetarum,"  of  Mattaire,  and  in  the  "  Poetse 
Latinae  Minores."  The  "  Elegies,"  annexed  to  the  fourth  book 
of  those  of  Tibulus,  have  been  perhaps  erroneously  attributed  to 
this  poetess. 

Anna  Comnena,  daughter  of  the  emperor  Alexander  Com- 
nenus  I.,  has  been  rendered  memorable  by  her  talents  as  well 
as  her  rank.  In  the  midst  of  a  voluptuous  and  frivolous  court, 
she  addicted  herself  to  the  study  of  letters,  and  cultivated  an 
acquaintance  with  philosophers.  She  was  married  to  a  young 
nobleman  of  distinction,  Nicephorus  Byrennius  ;  and  her  philo- 
sophy had  not  so  far  mortified  her  ambition,  but  that,  upon  the 
last  illness  of  her  father,  she  joined  with  the  empress  Irene,  in 
soliciting  him  to  disinherit  his  son  in  favor  of  her  husband. 
On  the  failure  of  this  scheme  she  excited  a  conspiracy  for  the 
deposition  of  her  brother;  and  w^hen  Byrennius  impeded  its 
success  by  his  fears  or  scruples,  she  lamented  that  nature  had 
mistaken  their  sexes,  for  that  he  ought  to  have  been  the  woman. 
The  plot  was  discovered  and  defeated ;  and  Anna  was  punished 
by  the  confiscation  of  her  property,  which  was,  however, 
restored  to  her  by  the  indulgent  emperor;  but  she  appears 
never  more  to  have  possessed  any  influence  .  at  court.      She 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  143 

soothed  the  solitude  of  her  latter  years,  by  composing  a  minute 
history  of  her  fathers  reign ;  a  work  still  extant,  and  which 
forms  a  conspicuous  portion  of  the  collection  of  Byzantine  histo- 
rians. The  authors  of  the  "Journal  des  Savans,"  for  1075, 
have  spoken  of  this  learned  and  accomplished  lady  in  the  fol- 
lowing manner.  "  The  elegance,"  say  they,  "  in  which  Anna 
Comnena  has  described,  in  fifteen  books,  the  life  and  actions  of 
her  father,  and  the  strong  and  eloquent  manner  in  which  she 
has  set  them  of!^  are  so  much  above  the  ordinary  understanding 
of  women,  that  one  is  almost  ready  to  doubt  whether  indeed  she 
was  the  author  of  these  books.  It  is  certain  one  cannot  read 
the  description  she  has  given  of  countries,  rivers,  mountains, 
towns,  sieges,  battles,  the  reflections  she  makes  upon  particular 
events,  the  judgment  she  passes  upon  imperial  human  actions, 
and  the  digressions  she  makes  on  many  occasions,  without  per- 
ceiving that  she  must  have  been  very  well  skilled  in  grammar, 
rhetoric,  philosophy,  and  mathematics  ;  nay,  that  she  must  have 
had  some  knowledge  of  law,  physic,  and  divinity ;  all  which  is 
very  rare  and  uncommon  in  any  of  that  sex." 


Catharine  de  Medicis,  celebrated  by  the  French  historians 
for  her  talents  and  her  crimes,  daughter  of  Lorenzo  de  Medicis, 
duke  of  Urbin,  and  of  Madeline  de  la  Tour,  countess  of  Bou- 
logne, was  born  at  Florence,  April  15th,  1519.  Her  form 
was  admirable;  her  aspect  expressed  majesty,  blended  with 
softness.  In  the  delicacy  of  her  complexion,  and  the  vivacity 
of  her  eyes,  she  surpassed  every  other  lady  of  the  court. 

She  was  exposed  during  her  childhood  to  great  danger,  through 
the  animosity  of  the  Florentines  to  the  house  of  Medici,  which 
a  faction  had  expelled  from  the  city.  She  was  confined  for  some 
time  in  a  monastery. 

At  fourteen  years  of  age,  she  was  given  in  marriage,  by  pope 
Clement  VII.,  her  great  uncle,  to  Henry,  duke  of  Orleans,  second 
son  of  Francis  I.  The  nuptials  were  celebrated  at  Marseilles, 
October  28th,  1533,  in  the  presence  of  the  pope,  and  the  king 
of  France.  But  her  beauty  and  insinuating  manners  failed 
to  captivate  the  heart  of  her  husband,  who  had  devoted  himself 


144  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

to  the  maturer  charms  of  Diana  de  Poitiers.     The  character  of 
Catherine  had  not  yet  discovered  itself 

Ten  years  after  her  marriage,  she  was  delivered  of  a  son,  on 
whom  the  name  of  his  grandfather  was  conferred.  On  the  de- 
cease of  Francis  I.,  she  was  crowned  with  her  husband,  June 
12th,  1540.  But  she  possessed  only  the  title  of  queen;  while 
her  rival  engrossed  the  most  unbounded  political  influence. 

An  event  now  approached,  which  enabled  her  to  throw  aside 
her  mask,  and  to  assert  the  native  force  of  her  mind.  A  tourna- 
ment was  proclaimed  in  the  French  court,  on  the  double  occasion 
of  the  return  of  peace,  and  the  marriage  of  Elizabeth  of  France, 
the  daughter  of  Catharine,  (who  since  the  birth  of  Francis,  had 
borne  several  children,)  with  Philip  II.,  of  Spain.  Henry,  in 
breaking  a  lance  with  Montgomery,  captain  of  his  life  guards, 
was  killed  in  the  forty-first  year  of  his  age. 

The  court,  on  this  catastrophe,  was  filled  with  consternation, 
and  divided  by  intrigues.  Catherine,  so  long  obscured,  now  came 
forward,  and  rose  in  importance ;  as  mother  to  the  young  king, 
her  favor  was  eagerly  courted,  while  her  capacity  and  her  talents 
fitted  her  for  the  most  arduous  offices.  Endowed  with  a  thousand 
great  qualities,  she  wanted  only  virtue  to  direct  them  to  useful 
and  honorable  purposes.  Her  love  of  pleasure,  of  letters,  of 
magnificence,  were  her  inferior  passions,  over  which  ambition 
predominated.  Possessing  a  calm  and  intrepid  temper,  no  cir- 
cumstances, however  sudden,  however  trying,  threw  her  ofl'  her 
guard ;  she  knew  how  to  bend  to  circumstances,  or  to  accommo- 
date every  thing  to  her  purposes.  Consummate  in  dissembling, 
her  manners  were  seductive,  and  her  conversation  insinuating. 
Sprung  from  the  blood  of  Cosmo  de  Medicis,  and  emulous  of  the 
reputation  acquired  by  Francis  I,  she  affected  to  protect  learning, 
and  cultivate  the  fine  arts,  amidst  the  horrors  of  civil  war ;  even 
in  the  most  exhausted  state  of  the  finances,  she  was  the  most 
munificent  patroness  of  men  of  letters.  Expensive  and  lavish 
in  the  spectacles  which  she  exhibited  to  the  court,  she  covered 
under  the  mask  of  pleasure,  the  most  atrocious  designs  ;  planned 
a  massacre  in  the  midst  of  a  festival,  while  she  caressed  the 
victims  of  a  sanguinary  policy.     Cruel  from  ambition  rather 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  145 

than  from  temper,  profuse  from  taste,  and  rapacious  from  neces- 
sity, she  united  in  her  characrer,  qualities  apparently  the  most 
discordant.  The  majesty  of  her  person,  the  dignity  of  her 
aspect,  and  the  elegance  of  her  dress,  added  lustre  to  her  beauty, 
which  remained  unimpaired  to  an  advanced  period  of  life. 

Animated  by  an  intemperate  and  barbarous  zeal,  the  new  min- 
isters persuaded  their  youthful  sovereign,  that  in  persecuting  the 
huguenotts,  he  would  adhere  to  the  maxims  and  conduct  of  his 
father.  Catharine,  with  a  temporising  policy,  endeavored,  as  in- 
terest suggested,  to  adjust  the  balance  between  the  contending 
parties.  The  young  king  died  suddenly,  after  a  reign  of  little 
more  than  a  year.  While  both  parties  courted  her  as  the  arbi- 
tress  of  their  future  fortunes,  she  employed,  with  infinite  address 
and  coolness,  the  measures  necessary  to  secure  to  herself  the 
first  place  in  the  government,  under  Charles,  her  son,  who  had 
scarcely  attained  his  eleventh  year. 

Catharine  by  her  subtle  policy,  and  by  her  pretended  favor  for 
the  different  parties  Avhich  divided  the  kingdom,  was  the  cause 
of  the  civil  wars  which  raged  between  the  huguenotts  and 
catholics,  the  king  of  Navarre,  the  prince  of  Conde,  and  the 
duke  of  Guise. 

The  royal  army,  in  which  was  the  queen  and  her  son,  after 
taking  Blois,  Tours,  and  Bourges,  laid  siege  to  Rouen,  defended 
by  Montgomery,  famed  in  the  annals  of  France  for  his  fatal 
tournament  with  Henry  II.  The  courage  of  Catharine  was  truly 
heroic ;  every  day,  during  the  siege,  she  exposed  herself  to  the 
most  imminent  personal  dangers.  The  duke  of  Guise,  and  the 
constable,  remonstrated  with  her  in  vain  on  this  temerity.  "  Why,' ' 
she  nobly  replied,  "  should  I  spare  myself  more  than  you  ?  Is  it 
that  I  have  less  courage,  or  less  interest  in  the  event  ?  It  is  true 
that  I  have  less  personal  force,  but  in  resolution  of  mind  I  am 
not  inferior."  Of  what  had  not  Catharine  been  capable,  had  this 
grandeur  of  sentiment  been  directed  by  proper  principles !  The 
soldiers,  in  imitation  of  the  Romans,  gave  to  her  the  title  of  "  Ma- 
ter Castrorum."  The  city  was  carried  by  assauh.  The  king 
of  Navarre  met  his  fate  before  Rouen. 

After  many  struggles  between  the  contending  parties,  with 

la 


146  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

alternate  loss  and  advantage,  peace,  so  long  and  so  ardently 
desired,  was  re-established,  on  terms  not  unfavorable  to  the 
huguenotts.  Charles  swore  to  preserve  the  treaty  inviolate,  and 
to  protect  the  colonist  in  every  benefit  it  promised  to  confer ; 
but  under  these  fair  appearances  lurked  the  most  cruel  and 
treacherous  designs.  Catharine,  convinced  from  experience 
that  the  huguenotts  were  not  to  be  subdued  by  force,  had  already 
planned  the  tragic  spectacle  which  two  years  afterwards  aston- 
ished Europe.  A  project  so  horribly  flagitious  and  unprece- 
dented, has  stigmatised  with  indelible  and  deserved  infamy,  the 
comprehensive,  yet  detestable  genius,  which  gave  it  birth. 
"  Like  some  minister  of  an  angry  deity,"  says  an  ingenious  and 
entertaining  writer,  "  Catharine  appears  to  have  been  occupied 
only  in  effecting  the  ruin  of  her  people,  and  to  have  marked 
her  course  with  carnage  and  devastation." 

It  becoming  necessary  to  marry  the  king,  who  had  entered 
his  twenty-first  year,  Catharine  solicited  for  him  the  hand  of 
Elizabeth  of  England.  Failing  in  this  suit,  she  turned  her 
attention  to  the  archduchess  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  the  emperor 
Maximilian  II.,  a  princess  whose  slender  capacity  threatened 
no  diminution  of  her  influence  over  the  mind  of  her  son. 

The  marriage  having  been  celebrated,  the  young  queen  was 
crowned  at  St.  Denis.  Catharine  displayed  on  this  occasion 
the  magnificence  of  her  spirit,  and  the  elegance  of  her  taste. 
The  entertainments  exhibited  at  court  were  heightened  by  the 
fictions  of  antiquity,  and  embellished  by  the  allegories  of 
Greece  and  Rome.  The  amusements  of  Catharine  were  cha- 
racterized by  a  genius,  a  spirit,  and  a  refinement,  that  emulated 
those  of  more  advanced  periods,  and  were  scarcely  surpassed 
under  the  splendid  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  the  Augustan  age  of 
France.  "  Her  extraordinary  and  universal  genius,"  says  the 
writer  before  quoted,  "comprehended  every  thing  in  its  em- 
brace, and  were  equally  distinguished  at  a  cabinet  or  a  banquet, 
whether  directed  to  the  destruction  or  delight  of  mankind :  in 
her,  qualities  the  most  opposite  and  discordant  in  their  nature, 
seem  to  have  been  blended.  She  was  enabled,  by  the  univer- 
sality of  her  talents,  to  pass,  with  the  easiest  transition,  from 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  147 

the  horrors  of  war  to  the  dissipations  of  indolence  and  peace ; 
and  we  are  forced  to  lament,  that  a  capacity  so  exalted  should, 
from  the  principles  hy  which  it  was  actuated,  produce  only 
more  general  and  lasting  evils." 

The  horrid  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  was  resolved  on  by 
Catharine,  but  her  pernicious  counsels  had  not  yet  extinguished 
in  Charles'  bosom  every  spark  of  honor,  every  sympathy  of 
humanity.  He  paused  on  the  threshold  of  an  enterprise  that 
would  deliver  his  name  with  infamy  to  the  latest  posterity,  and 
overwhelm  his  memory  with  execration  and  abhorrence.  Ob- 
serving the  paleness  of  his  countenance,  and  the  drops  which 
hung  upon  his  forehead,  she  reproached  him  with  pusillanimity. 
Piqued  at  her  contemptuous  reflections,  the  unhappy  Charles 
gave  the  orders  demanded  of  him. 

The  dreadful  work  of  death  commenced ;  the  massacre  con- 
tinued for  a  week,  and  more  than  five  thousand  persons  of  every 
rank,  perished.  Their  bodies  floated  on  the  Seine,  passing  in  the 
view  of  the  tyrant,  under  the  windows  of  the  Louvre.  Catha- 
rine de  Medicis,  the  demon  of  this  destruction,  beheld,  without 
pity  or  compunction,  the  misery  of  v/hich  she  had  been  the 
cause ;  having  gazed  on  the  head  of  Admiral  Coligni,  which 
was  presented  to  her,  with  savage  delight,  she  sent  it  to  Rome 
as  the  most  acceptable  present  to  the  sovereign  pontiff!  The 
number  of  Calvinists  put  to  death  in  the  various  provinces,  is 
estimated  from  twenty-five  to  forty  thousand  persons. 

This  bloody  tragedy  had  such  an  effect  on  the  mind  of 
Charles,  that  he  did  not  long  survive  it.  He  expired  in  his 
twenty- fifth  year.  May  30th,  1574.  The  crown  descended  to 
his  brother  Henry,  then  king  of  Poland.  Catharine  acted  as 
regent  until  his  arrival,  and  their  meeting  at  Lyons  was  tender 
and  affecting.  No  alteration  was  made  by  Henry  in  the  cabi- 
net, in  which  the  queen  mother  held  a  distinguished  place. 

The  weakness  of  the  king's  subsequent  conduct,  which  drew 
on  him  the  contempt  of  the  nation,  threw  Catharine  into  a  pro- 
found melancholy :  she  foresaw  the  ruin  of  the  state,  which  she 
knew  not  how  to  avert.  Her  remonstrances  and  entreaties  had 
lost  all  influence  over  the  mind  of  Henry,  who  was  sunk  in 


148  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

debauchery  and  the  most  abject  superstition.  He  was  deserted 
by  his  subjects,  and  alike  contemned  both  by  catholics  and 
huguenotts.  He  involved  himself  with  both  in  the  most  fatal 
contentions ;  the  kingdom  was  divided  by  factions,  and  torn  by 
intestine  wars.  In  vain  were  all  the  endeavors  of  Catharine 
to  rouse  the  mind  of  her  degenerate  son,  and  to  inspire  him 
with  a  portion  of  her  own  vigor  and  capacity.  She  alternately 
sought  by  negotiation  and  address  to  allay  the  violence  of  all 
parties,  and  heal  the  wounds  of  the  state. 

Her  death  took  place  at  the  castle  of  Blois,  January  5th,  1588, 
in  the  seventieth  year  of  her  age. 

The  memory  of  Catharine  has  been,  by  the  protestant  histo- 
rians, uniformly  execrated  and  branded  with  infamy ;  and  the 
part  she  took  in  the  fatal  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  has  left 
upon  her  name  an  indelible  stain. 


Constance,  daughter  of  Conan,  duke  of  Brittany,  was  wife  of 
Geoflrey  Plantagenet,  son  of  Henry  U.,  king  of  England.  She 
was  contracted  by  him  while  they  were  both  in  the  cradle,  and 
by  her  right  Geoffrey  became  duke  of  Brittany.  By  him  she 
had  two  children,  Eleanor,  called  the  maid  of  Brittany,  and 
Arthur,  who  was  born  after  the  death  of  his  father.  She  after- 
wards married  Ralph  Blundeville,  earl  of  Chester;  from  him 
she  was  divorced,  and  again  married  Guy,  brother  to  the  "V  is- 
count  Thouars.  She  had  by  him  a  daughter,  named  Alix, 
whom  the  Bretons  elected  for  their  sovereign.  She  died  in  1202. 


Laura  Creta,  an  Italian  lady,  was  born  in  1669.  She  was 
learned  in  the  languages  and  philosophy.  She  married  Peter 
Lereni,  but  with  him  she  was  not  destined  to  live  long.  He 
died  in  eighteen  months  after  their  union.  She  refused  to  enter 
into  a  second  connection,  but  devoted  herself  to  her  studies. 
She  held  a  correspondence  with  most  of  the  great  scholars  and 
philosophers  in  Europe,  who  were  happy  in  forming  an  ac- 
quaintance, through  the  medium  of  letters,  with  one  of  most 
learned  women  of  the  age,  and  of  the  world.  She  died  in  the 
flower  of  her  age,  and  was  lamented  throughout  Christendom. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  149 

But  by  the  jealousies  of  many  of  modern  times,  the  writings  of 
highly  educated  females  have  not  had  a  fair  chance  to  see  new 
editions.  This  jealousy,  thank  Heaven,  is  now  departing  from 
the  literary  horizon  of  Europe. 


CoRiNNA,  a  poetess,  was  born  at  Thebes,  or,  according  to  some 
writers  at  Tanagra.  She  was  distinguished  for  her  skill  in  lyric 
verse,  as  well  as  remarkable  for  her  personal  attractions.  She 
Avas  the  rival  of  Pindar,  while  he  was  in  the  prime  of  his  youth 
and  in  zenith  of  his  fame,  and  gained  a  victory  over  him,  ac- 
cording to  some  Greek  writers  no  less  than  five  times,  but  all 
agree  that  she  did  so  once.  She  wrote  in  the  .^olic  dialect, 
which  it  is  said  gave  her  a  great  advantage  over  Pindar,  who 
wrote  in  the  Doric,  particularly  as  she  had  an  -^olic  auditory. 
She  was  not  vain  of  her  success,  for  she  gave  Pindar  some 
wholesome  criticism  upon  moderating  the  ardor  of  his  imagina- 
tion Most  of  her  productions  have  been  lost  in  the  lapse  of 
ages ;  a  few  fragments  only  have  survived,  but  enough  to  show 
what  was  the  power  of  her  abilities,  and  of  her  mastery  over 
rhythm.  Even  Pindar  has  been  but  little  more  fortunate,  for  but 
a  small  portion  of  his  poetry  is  extant. 


Maria  Cunitia,  or  Cunitz,  a  lady  of  great  learning  and 
genius,  was  born  in  Silesia  about  the  beginning  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  and  became  celebrated  for  her  extensive  know- 
ledge in  many  branches  of  learning,  particularly  in  mathematics 
and  astronomy,  upon  which  she  wrote  several  ingenious  treatises  ; 
one  of  which  under  the  title  of  "  Urania  Propitia,"  printed  in 
1650,  in  Latin  and  German,  she  dedicated  to  Ferdinand  III., 
emperor  of  Germany.  In  this  work  are  contained  astronomical 
tables,  of  great  care  and  accuracy,  founded  upon  Kelper's  hypo- 
theses. She  acquired  languages  with  amazing  facility;  and 
understood  Polish,  German,  French,  Italian,  Latin,  Greek,  and 
Hebrew.  With  equal  care  she  acquired  a  knowledge  of  the 
sciences,  history,  physic,  poetry,  painting  music,  both  vocal  and 
instrumental,  were  familiar  to  her ;  and  yet  they  were  no  more 
than  her  amusements. 

13* 


150  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Her  favorite  study  was  mathematics,  and  especially  astronomy, 
to  which  she  was  principally  devoted,  and  was  not  without  reason 
ranked  among  the  most  able  astronomers  of  her  time.  She 
married  Elias  De  Lewin,  M.  D.,  also  an  astronomer ;  and  they 
carried  on  their  favorite  studies  for  some  time  with  equal  repu- 
tation and  success,  until  the  war  penetrated  into  Silesia,  and 
obliged  them  to  quit  their  residence  at  Schweinetz,  for  Poland, 
which  was  then  at  peace.  Upon  their  journey,  although  fur- 
nished with  the  best  of  passports,  they  were  robbed  by  the  sol- 
diers; but  on  their  arrival  in  Poland  were  welcomed  with  every 
attention.  Plere  she  compared  her  astronomical  tables  above 
noticed,  first  printed  at  Oels,  and  four  years  after  at  Frankfort. 
Some  historians  fix  her  death  at  1664,  while  others  say  that 
she  was  living  a  Avidow  in  1669 ;  but  all  agree  in  her  extraordi- 
nary talents  and  acquirements. 


Capillana,  a  Peruvian  princess,  Avho,  having  become  a 
widow  very  young,  retired  from  court  to  a  house  she  had  in  the 
country;  scarcely  was  she  established  there,  when  Pizarro 
appeared  on  the  coast.  Having  sent  his  people  to  reconnoitre 
the  country,  they  penetrated  to  the  retreat  of  Capillana,  who 
gave  them  all  the  succors  they  wanted,  and  expressed  a  desire 
to  see  their  general.  Pizarro  came,  and  an  attachment  soon 
took  place  between  them.  He  knew  all  the  advantages  of  such 
a  conquest ;  and  profiting  by  his  ascendancy  over  the  heart  of 
Capillana,  he  endeavored  to  persuade  her  to  embrace  the  Chris- 
tian faith.  But  the  young  princess  was  not  easily  convinced, 
and  he  left  off  the  attempt ;  yet  afterwards  applying  herself  to 
study  the  Spanish  language,  she  became  a  convert.  On  the 
death  of  Pizarro,  she  returned  again  to  her  retreat,  and  sought 
consolation  in  the  knowledge  she  had  acquired.  In  the  library 
of  the  dominicans  of  Peru,  a  manuscript  of  her  composition  is 
preserved,  in  which  is  painted,  by  her  own  hand,  ancient  Peru- 
vian monuments,  each  accompanied  with  a  short  historical 
explanation  in  the  Castilian  language.  There  is  also  a  repre- 
sentation of  many  of  their  plants,  with  curious  descriptions  on 
their  merits  and  properties. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  151 

Victoria  Colonna,  an  illustrious  lady,  distinguished  for 
her  productions  in  Italian  poetry ;  was  the  daughter  of  Fabutio 
Colonna,  duke  of  Palliano ;  she  was  born  at  Marino,  in  1 490. 
When  seventeen  years  of  age,  she  was  married  to  Francis  d'Ava- 
las,  marquis  of  Piscara.  They  lived  together  in  the  most  perfect 
harmony ;  and  she  is  said  to  have  employed  her  influence  in 
dissuading  him  from  accepting  the  crown  of  Naples,  which  was 
offered  him  after  the  battle  of  Pavia,  in  order  to  detach  him 
from  the  interests  of  the  emperor  Charles  V.  After  the  death 
of  her  husband,  Avhich  happened  in  1525,  she  lived  in  retire- 
ment, solacing  her  grief  with  poetry  and  devotion,  and  firmly 
rejecting  all  offers  of  a  new  alliance.  She  entertained  a  friendly 
correspondence  with  some  of  the  most  learned  and  enlightened 
persons  of  the  age,  as  the  cardinals  Bombo,  Contarini,  and  Pale  ; 
the  poets  Flominio,  Malza,  Almanni,  and  others.  For  the  sake  of 
a  more  perfect  retirement,  she  entered  a  monastery  at  Orvieto,  in 
1546,  which  she  soon  exchanged  for  that  of  St.  Catherine,  in 
Viterbo.  She  at  length  left  this  monastery  and  retired  to  Rome, 
where  she  died  in  1547.  Her  poems  passed  through  four  edi- 
tions, and  are  much  admired.  They  are  not  inferior  to  those 
of  the  greater  part  of  the  Petrarchian  versifiers  of  that  age,  and 
are  among  the  first  in  which  Italian  poetry  was  employed  on 
religious  topics.  The  Italian  muse  had  sung  before  that  time 
only  war  and  love. 


Charlotte  Corde,  w^as  born  in  the  department  of  Calvados, 
in  France,  about  the  year  1774.  During  a  part  of  the  French 
revolution,  she  had  been  in  habits  of  confidence  with  many  of 
the  deputies  of  the  legislature,  and  her  spirit  was  animated  with 
the  greatest  devotion  to  the  cause  of  liberty,  and  of  her  country. 

The  factions  which  prevailed  in  the  convention,  had  excited 
her  abhorrence,  and  amongst  those  whom  she  held  most  odious, 
was  the  infamous  Marat,  whose  sanguinary  proscriptions,  denun- 
ciations, and  maxims,  had  filled  her  soul  with  a  determined  reso- 
lution for  his  destruction.  She  accordingly  left  her  native  home, 
in  the  beginning  of  July,  1793,  with  an  express  determination 
of  assassinating  him,  which  3he  effected  on  the  evening  of  the 


152  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

day  following,  after  conversing  with  him  on  some  political  topics, 
by  stabbing  him  to  the  heart  with  a  dagger. 

Having  perpetrated  this  deed,  she  walked  out  of  the  house 
with  the  most  perfect  composure,  and  was  soon  after  arrested. 
When  brought  before  a  magistrate,  she  looked  on  him  with  a 
smile  of  the  most  indignant  and  contemptuous  mockery,  and 
declared,  that  she  gloried  in  releasing  her  country  from  a  mon- 
ster ;  that  she  had  fixed  her  mind  on  his  death,  as  necessary  to 
its  salvation ;  that  there  were  others,  who  should  also  perish, 
had  she  the  power,  but  as  she  knew  she  could  sacrifice  but  one, 
she  was  determined  to  begin  with  the  most  execrable  of  them 
all.  She  even  spoke  at  large  in  justification  of  the  deed,  as  ne- 
cessary to  the  honor  and  happiness  of  her  country,  and  glorious 
to  herself;  that  it  was  due  to  justice  to  rid  the  world  of  a  san- 
guinary monster,  whose  doctrines  were  framed  for  indiscriminate 
destruction,  and  who  was  already  condemned  by  the  voice  of 
public  opinion. 

Her  deportment,  during  her  trial,  was  modest  and  dignified. 
There  was  so  engaging  a  softness  in  her  countenance,  that  it 
was  difficult  to  conceive  how  she  could  have  armed  herself  with 
sufficient  intrepidity  to  perpetrate  such  a  deed,  or  to  sustain  her- 
self with  so  great  calmness  on  the  verge  of  death.  She  heard 
her  sentence  pronounced,  with  attention  and  composure,  and  left 
the  court  with  the  greatest  serenity,  to  prepare  for  the  last  scene. 
When  on  the  scaffold,  she  behaved  with  the  same  fortitude,  which 
she  had  uniformly  displayed  from  the  commencement  of  this 
extraordinary  transaction.  As  the  executioner  was  attempting 
to  tie  her  feet  to  the  plank  she  resisted,  from  an  apprehension 
that  he  meant  to  insult  her ;  but  upon  his  explaining  himself, 
she  submitted  with  a  smile ;  and  her  head  was  immediately  after 
severed  from  her  body. 

Her  portrait  was  in  every  print  shop  in  England,  and  the 
United  States ;  every  museum  had  her  image  in  wax,  and  her 
name  became  as  familiar  as  that  of  Brutus.  Some  few  viewed 
her  as  an  assassin  ;  others  as  a  heroine  of  deathless  fame.  It  is 
acknowledged  by  all  her  biographers,  that  she  was  virtuous  in 
her  conduct,  and  lofty  in  her  feelings.     If  Lucretia  was  right  in 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  153 

sacrificing  herself  for  her  country,  Charlotte  Corde  could  not 
have  been  wrong ;  if  Brutus  did  a  deed  of  glory  by  striking 
Caesar  to  the  heart,  this  female  patriot  was  not  to  be  censured ; 
for  Cajsar  was  ambitious,  but  not  tyrannical.  Marat  was  a  cut- 
throat and  a  traitor,  he  had  deluged  the  country  with  blood. 
There  are  many  acts  of  a  high  character,  of  doubtful  morality ; 
they  are  exceptions  to  all  the  ordinary  rules  which  govern  hu- 
man life,  and  are  not  dangerous  as  examples.  Let  those  who 
censure  their  deeds,  remember  that  they  are  judging  in  quiet 
times,  but  the  acts  were  perpetrated  when  the  political  and  moral 
elements  were  in  confusion.  Let  those  who  praise  them  consider 
that  such  deeds,  if  to  be  admired,  are  not  to  be  imitated,  and 
thank  heaven  there  are  but  few  occasions  that  will  call  them 
forth. 


Isabella  Losa,  de  Cordova,  was  learned  in  the  languages, 
and  received  the  honorary  degree  of  D.  D.  After  her  husband 
died  she  took  the  habit  of  St.  Clair,  and  founded  the  hospital  of 
Loretto,  where  she  retired  from  the  world,  and  ended  her  days 
in  the  bosom  of  devotion,  in  1546,  in  the  seventy-third  year  of 
her  age.  At  this  period  of  the  world,  many  learned  ladies,  after 
enjoying  life  for  a  time,  retired  to  a  convent;  they  could  not 
find  in  society  sufficient  charms  to  interest  them,  and  wanting 
something  to  fill  up  the  void,  turned  from  the  world  to  the  duties 
of  religion,  as  it  was  then  understood,  and  passed  life  away  in  a 
dream,  because  there  was  not  sufficient  occupation  to  fill  their 
whole  souls.  If  the  burthens  and  duties  of  society,  which  are 
now  known,  had  then  existed,  the  pious  and  enlightened  might 
have  found  a  cure  for  ennui,  or  something  to  have  filled  up  every 
hour  of  existence. 


Hannah  Cowley,  a  dramatic  writer,  was  the  daughter  of 
Phillip  Packhouse,  Esq.,  a  man  of  classical  attainments,  who, 
after  being  educated  for  the  church,  gave  up  the  profession,  and 
opened  a  book  store.  He  gave  his  daughter  a  good  education ; 
for  he  discovered  her  talent  v/hen  she  was  quite  young.  She 
married  a  Mr.  Cowley,  a  gentleman  of  talents,  and  a  captain  in 


154  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

the  East  India  Company's  service.  He  died  in  1797.  She 
became  a  writer  by  accident.  While  attending  the  theatre  one 
evening  with  her  husband,  the  thought  came  into  her  mind  that 
she  could  write  as  well  as  the  author  of  the  play  then  enacting, 
and  she  sketched  the  outlines  of  one  the  next  morning.  She 
wrote  many  pieces  of  great  merit ;  but  she  was  never  vain,  or 
neglectful  of  her  domestic  duties.  Her  greatest  pleasure  in  life 
was  in  the  education  of  her  children.  She  wrote  with  great 
purity  and  taste.  She  died,  March  11th,  1809;  and  the  peri- 
odicals of  that  day  paid  several  affectionate  and  just  tributes 
to  her  memory.  Her  works  have  been  published  in  three 
volumes  octavo. 


RosALBA  Carriera,  an  eminent  female  artist,  was  born  at 
Chiozza  in  1675 ;  and  having  shown  an  early  taste  for  painting, 
her  father  placed  her  with  an  artist  from  whom  she  learned  to 
paint  in  oil,  but  she  afterwards  practiced,  and  carried  crayon- 
painting  to  a  high  degree  of  perfection.  Orlandi  celebrates  her 
miniatures.  Her  crayon  often  arrives  to  the  strength  of  pictures 
in  oil.  Her  portraits,  spread  over  all  Europe,  are  as  elegant 
and  graceful  in  conception  and  attitude,  as  fresh,  neat,  and  allu- 
ring in  color.  Her  Madonas,  and  other  sacred  subjects,  rise 
from  grace  to  dignity,  and  even  majesty.  Incessant  application 
deprived  her  of  sight  in  the  seventy-second  year  of  her  age. 
She  lived  ten  years  afterwards.  While  in  this  state  of  blindness, 
she  called  up  all  the  visions  that  had  been  in  her  mind  when 
she  could  see.  She  arranged  her  images  in  this  hall  of  imagi- 
nation and  recollection.  She  now  gazed  on  a  Madona  with  the 
eyes  of  her  mind,  and  criticised  it  with  spirit  and  accuracy.  She 
would  often  sketch  a  landscape  with  tolerably  correctness  when 
every  ray  of  the  light  of  day  had  left  her.  Such  a  genius  for- 
ever enjoys  the  sunshine  of  the  soul.  There  is  a  communion 
between  the  blind  and  the  world  beyond  human  vision  that  ele- 
vates the  soul  to  the  abode  of  the  gods.  Such  was  Homer,  Mil- 
ton, Ossian,  and  the  strains  of  Carolan  the  blind  bard  of  Erin, 
and  those  of  our  own  sightless  Shaw,  have  a  touch  of  celestial 
music  in  them. 


FEMAtE    fiI()GRAPHY.  155 

Catherine  II.,  empress  of  Russia,  (her  maiden  name  was 
Sophia  Augusta  Frederica,)  was  born  at  Stellin,  May  2d,  1729. 
Her  father,  Christian  Augustus,  of  Anhalt-Terbst-Domburgh, 
(a  small  district  in  Upper  Saxony,)  was  major-general  in  the 
Prussian  service,  commander-in-chief  of  the  regiments  of  in- 
fantry, and  governor  of  the  town  and  fortress  of  Stellin.  Her 
mother,  a  woman  of  talents,  born  princess  of  Holstein,  was  the 
friend  and  correspondent  of  Frederick,  prince  royal  of  Prussia. 
Intelligence  and  vivacity  characterised  the  young  Sophia ;  who 
was  educated  under  the  eye  of  her  mother :  her  temper  was 
commanding,  and  her  manners  dignified ;  in  her  childish  sports 
with  her  companions,  she  assumed  to  herself  the  direction  and 
control,  with  a  spirit  and  firmness  which  admitted  of  no  appeal. 

She  resided  alternately,  till  her  fifteenth  year,  in  Stellin,  in 
Domburgh,  or  in  Terbst,  she  also  accompanied  her  mother  in 
several  journies,  by  which  her  mind  was  enlarged  and  her  man- 
ners improved.  She  frequently  made  some  stay  at  Hamburg, 
with  her  maternal  grandmother,  the  widow  of  the  bishop  of  Lu- 
beck,  at  whose  court  she  received  from  M.  Von  Brummer,  gen- 
tleman of  the  bedchamber,  the  most  select  productions  of  con- 
temporary writers.  Attached  to  letters,  to  learning,  and  to  medi- 
tation, she  derived  from  these  communications  both  profit  and 
pleasure.  Her  visits  to  Brunswick  were  yet  more  frequent, 
where,  with  Elizabeth  Sophia  Maria,  duchess  dowager  of  Wolf- 
enbulth,  she  sometimes  passed  the  whole  summer. 

In  December,  1743,  she  was  instructed  at  Brunswick,  by  the 
court  preacher  Dave,  in  the  principles  of  the  Lutheran  church. 
In  the  preceding  year  she  made  a  visit  to  Berlin,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  being  present  at  the  nuptials  of  the  prince  of  Prussia. 
She  likewise  revisited  Prussia  in  the  beginning  of  the  year 
1744,  whence  she  proceeded  to  Russia. 

Three  years  after  the  appointment  of  Peter  to  the  succession 
by  the  empress  Elizabeth,  by  whom  he  had  been  called  to  Russia 
for  the  purpose,  it  was  determined  to  marry  him.  Sophia,  prin- 
cess of  Anhalt-Terbst,  was  selected,  on  this  occasion,  by  Eliza- 
beth, for  his  consort.  As  a  preliminary  to  these  nuptials,  the 
princess  embraced  the  formulary  of  the  Greek  church,  and  at 


156  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

her  invitation  received  the  name  afterwards  so  celehrated,  of 
Catherine  Alexievna. 

A  cloud  obscured  the  favorable  prospects  of  Catherine.  A 
fever  had  seized  her  lover,  accompanied  by  alarming  symptoms. 
The  distemper  terminated  in  a  malignant  small-pox,  which 
spared  the  life  of  the  duke,  but  proved  in  i^s  effects,  a  severer 
trial  of  the  affection  of  his  mistress.  The  features  of  Peter  suf- 
fered a  cruel  alteration,  his  comeliness  was  wholly  defaced,  and 
his  countenance  for  a  time  scarred  and  distorted. 

Catherine  felt  a  secret  horror  on  her  first  interview  with  the 
duke,  but  repressing  her  emotions,  she  fell  on  his  neck  and  af- 
fectionately embraced  him,  with  marks  of  the  liveliest  joy.  The 
impressions  which  had  seized  her,  however  stifled  at  the  mo- 
ment, were  not  to  be  effaced ;  on  her  return  to  her  chamber  she 
fell  into  a  swoon,  from  which  she  revived  not  till  after  several 
hours.  With  these  feelings,  on  her  recovery,  ambition  struggled, 
and  finally  prevailed :  she  sought  not  to  defer  the  celebration 
of  her  nuptials,  an  event  so  ardently  desired  by  her  mother, 
and  which  the  empress  anticipated  with  pleasure.  The  mar- 
riage was  accordingly  solemnized,  while  the  attachment  which 
had  preceded  it,  and  which  was  built  on  a  superficial  foundation, 
was  already  expiring. 

Brought  up  under  the  eye  of  a  sensible  mother,  at  no  great 
distance  from  the  court  of  Frederick,  the  seat  of  the  sciences 
and  arts,  Catherine  had,  to  a  strong  and  comprehensive  mind, 
added  extensive  knowledge,  and  a  facility  of  expressing  herself, 
in  several  languages,  with  elegance  and  grace.  With  an  excel- 
lent heart  and  some  understanding,  the  education  of  Peter  had 
been  wholly  neglected;  deficient  in  those  graces  and  accom- 
plishments, and  in  that  cultivation  of  mind,  which  so  eminently 
distinguished  his  wife,  he  felt  her  superiority  and  blushed ;  while 
she  repined  at  the  fate  which  had  united  her  to  a  man  so  little 
worthy  of  her,  and  so  ill  suited  to  contribute  to  her  happiness  or 
improvement.  Their  mutual  disgust,  which  daily  increased, 
became  at  length  but  too  visible  to  the  court. 

Peter  had,  from  the  moment  of  his  arrival,  been  beheld  with 
distrust  by  the  principal  Russian  families.     Among  the  most 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  157 

determined  of  his  enemies  was  the  chancellor  Bestucheflfi  who 
formed  the  design  of  excluding  him  from  the  throne,  and  placing 
Catherine  at  the  head  of  affairs. 

Among  other  accusations  brought  forward  against  their  victim 
was  that  of  drunkenness,  a  habit  he  had  acquired,  and  of  which 
the  empress  had  ocular  demonstration.  Emboldened  by  their 
success,  the  conspirators  set  no  bounds  to  their  calumnies,  by 
which  the  unfortunate  prince  was  rendered  odious  to  his  aunt ; 
a  prey  to  lassitude,  the  inactivity  in  which  he  languished,  with 
the  flexibility  of  his  temper,  gave  but  too  many  advantages  to 
the  perfidy  of  his  enemies.  Persuaded  of  his  misconduct,  the 
empress  gradually  withdrew  from  him  her  favor  and  he  was 
accustomed  to  retire  to  a  palace  in  the  country,  and  immure  him- 
self as  a  state  prisoner  rather  than  as  heir  to  the  crown. 

Catherine  in  the  mean  time,  guided  by  a  shrewd  and  vigilant 
mother,  insinuated  herself  into  the  favor  of  the  most  consider- 
able persons  of  the  court ;  ambition  triumphed  in  her  mind  over 
every  inferior  propensity,  and  enabled  her  to  extort,  by  the  pro- 
priety of  her  conduct,  the  esteem  of  those  whose  affection  she 
failed  to  conciliate.  The  influence  which  her  mother  had  over 
her,  excited  the  jealousy  of  the  empress,  and  an  order  was  at 
length  procured  by  her  enemies,  which  compelled  the  princess  to 
quit  the  empire.  Catherine  would  not  see  the  departure  of  her 
mother,  whom  the  most  poignant  grief  appeared  to  overwhelm, 
without  concern ;  but  ambition  diverted  her  filial  sorrow,  which 
the  allurement  of  pleasure  contributed  more  effectually  to  subdue. 

Elizabeth,  after  a  tedious  illness  and  severe  sufferings,  the 
consequences  of  intemperence,  died  on  Christmas  day,  1761.  This 
event  was  scarcely  known,  when  the  courtiers  crowded  around 
the  heir,  to  whom  the  importance  of  the  moment  gave  a  tempo- 
rary firmness.  The  first  measures  of  Peter  were  popular  and 
auspicious  :  to  the  Russian  nobility  and  gentry  he  gave  free- 
dom ;  he  also  recalled  the  state  prisoners,  with  which  jealousy 
and  despotism  had  peopled  Siberia.  The  ordinary  habits  of  the 
czar,  dazzled  by  the  elevation,  and  influenced  by  the  ascendancy 
of  a  more  vigorous  genius,  suffered  a  temporary  suspension,  but, 

corrupted  by  power,  he  quickly  relaxed  into  indolence  and  vice. 

14 


158  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Insensibly  relaxing  in  his  great  designs,  the  offspring  of  an 
effervescent  fancy  rather  than  the  dictates  of  a  sound  judgment, 
Peter  resumed,  amidst  a  society  of  treacherous  parasites,  his 
habits  of  intemperance ;  whole  days  were  passed  in  smoking,  or 
sunk  in  odious  inebriety.  His  behaviour  towards  his  consort 
became  capricious  and  unequal ;  while  the  powers  of  her  un- 
derstanding extorted  his  homage,  he  failed  not  to  intimate  his 
sense  of  her  irregularities,  and  the  resentment  with  which  they 
inspired  him.  At  the  splendid  festival  of  the  Russian  church, 
he  was  impoliticly  content  to  follow  as  a  simple  colonel  in  the 
suite  of  Catherine,  who,  adorned  with  the  symbols  of  regal  dig- 
nity, appeared  with  majesty  as  if  born  to  command.  Catherine 
was  also  left  to  do  the  honors  of  the  court,  while  the  czar,  habit- 
ed in  the  uniform  of  his  regiment,  respectfully  presented  to  her 
his  officers  and  comrades.  Although  the  great  Peter  had,  with 
Catherine  I.,  acted  a  similar  part,  it  should  be  remembered  that 
heroes  and  men  of  talents  only,  possessing  an  inherent  dignity, 
may  venture  to  disdain  adventitious  advantages. 

Catherine  determined  to  oppose  to  the  imprudence  of  her  hus- 
band great  circumspection  and  address.  Versed  in  dissimula- 
tion, it  was  not  difficult  for  her  to  act  a  part,  while  she  employed 
herself  in  gaining  the  hearts  the  czar  was  alienating.  For  phi- 
losophy she  substituted  the  demeanor  of  a  bigot ;  while  repairing 
daily  to  the  churches,  she  prayed  with  the  semblance  of  a  sin- 
cere devotee ;  punctual  in  the  observance  of  the  Greek  supersti- 
tions, she  accosted  the  poor  with  benignity,  and  affected  homage 
to  the  patriarchs,  who  failed  not  from  house  to  house  to  pro- 
claim her  praises.  While  Peter  was  shut  up  with  his  compan- 
ions and  mistresses,  the  favorite  of  debauchees  and  buffoons, 
the  empress  kept  her  court  with  mingled  dignity  and  sweetness, 
charming  all  who  approached  her.  It  was  her  study  to  attract 
towards  her  every  man  distinguished  for  his  talents  or  courage, 
or  whose  intrigues  promised  to  be  useful. 

The  czar  in  the  mean  time,  offended  the  Russians  by  his  in- 
discretions, and  disgusted  the  foreign  ministers ;  and  the  hopes 
of  Catherine  received  daily  accession  from  the  imprudence  of 
her  husband.      Dismissed  to    Peterhoff,  she  passed  her  days 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  159 

in  one  of  its  most  retired  apartments,  where  she  meditated  the 
dethronement  of  Peter :  her  evenings  were  devoted  to  an  adhe- 
rent, converted  into  an  intrepid  conspirator  by  her  favor. 

The  power  of  the  czars,  like  all  despotisms,  is  weakly  found- 
ed :  resting  upon  the  opinions  and  prejudices  of  the  governed, 
it  requires  a  steady  hand  to  poise  it :  change  of  manners  and  a 
broken  succession,  had  rendered  revolutions  in  Russia  not  more 
difficult  than  sudden.  The  foreign  nativity  of  Peter  enhanced 
his  danger,  which  his  attention  to  foreign  interests,  to  the  preju- 
dice of  the  empire,  contributed  to  augment. 

At  the  head  of  the  conspiracy  to  depose  Peter,  were  Orloff, 
and  Odart,  and  the  Princess  Dashkoff  It  was  two  in  the  morn- 
ing, when  Catherine,  ignorant  of  what  was  passing,  and  lulled 
in  a  profound  sleep,  found  herself  suddenly  roused  by  a  soldier 
to  whose  person  she  was  a  stranger,  "  Your  majesty,"  said  he, 
"  has  not  a  moment  to  lose  ;  arise,  get  ready  and  follow  me." 
Having  thus  spoken,  he  instantly  disappeared.  The  empress, 
astonished  and  terrified,  called  her  favorite  woman ;  having 
dressed  in  haste,  they  disguised  themselves  so  as  to  be  unknown 
to  the  sentinels.  Scarcely  were  they  prepared  when  the  soldier 
returned,  from  whom  they  learned  that  a  carriage  awaited  them 
at  the  garden  gate.  They  found  there  a  coach,  which,  by  the 
princess  Dashkoif,  had  been  kept  in  readiness,  under  the  pre- 
tence of  a  rural  excursion,  at  the  house  of  one  of  her  peasants, 
a  few  miles  from  Peterhoff^  and  for  which  Alexey,  the  brother  of 
Orloff,  had  sent  a  comrade. 

Catherine,  with  her  attendant,  having  entered  the  carriage, 
the  reins  were  seized  by  Alexey,  who  set  off  at  full  speed. 
Nearly  exhausted  with  anxiety  and  fatigue,  yet  command»:ng 
herself  enough  to  assume  a  sedate  and  tranquil  air,  she  reached 
the  city  at  seven  in  the  morning,  July  9th,  1762. 

She  proceeded  immediately  to  the  quarter  of  the  Ismailoff 
guards,  of  which  three  companies  had  been  won  over  to  her 
party :  but  they  were  not  permitted  by  the  chiefs  of  the  conspi- 
racy, to  leave  their  barracks  till  the  appearance  of  the  empress, 
lest  precipitation  should  ruin  their  plan.  At  the  report  of  her 
arrival,  thirty  of  the  soldiers,  half  dressed,  ran  out  to  receive 


160  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

her  with  shouts  of  joy.  Alarmed  at  the  smallness  of  their  num- 
ber, she  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  at  length  assured  them  in  a 
tremulous  voiee,  "  that  she  had  been  driven  by  her  danger  to 
the  necessity  of  asking  their  assistance  ;  that  her  death,  together 
with  that  of  her  son,  had  been  decreed  by  the  czar  that  very 
night ;  that  flight  had  been  her  only  means  of  escape ;  and  that 
her  confidence  in  their  attachment  had  led  her  to  put  herself 
into  their  hands  !"  Her  auditors  trembled  with  indignation,  and 
swore  to  die  in  her  defence. 

Their  example,  with  that  of  the  hetman,  their  colonel,  who 
presently  joined  them,  collected  others,  who,  led  by  curiosity, 
flocked  about  the  empress  in  great  number,  and  with  one  consent 
declared  her  sovereign.  The  chaplain  of  the  regiment  being 
immediately  summoned,  a  crucifix  was  brought  from  the  altar, 
on  which  the  oath  of  the  troops  was  received.  Amidst  the 
tumult,  some  voices  were  heard  proclaiming  Catherine  regent, 
but  these  were  overborne  by  the  threats  of  Orloff^  and  the  more 
numerous  cries  of  "  Long  live  the  empress !" 

All  these  advantages  were  attained  within  two  hours.  The 
empress  already  beheld  herself  surrounded  by  two  thousand 
warriors,  and  a  large  proportion  of  the  inhabitants  of  Peters- 
burg, who  mechanically  followed  the  soldiers.  By  the  advice 
of  the  hetman,  she  repaired  to  the  church  of  Kassan,  where 
every  thing  had  been  prepared  for  her  reception.  As  she  pass- 
ed along,  attended  by  a  numerous  suite,  the  windows  and  doors 
were  crowded  with  spectators,  who  mingled  their  acclamations 
with  the  shouts  of  the  troops.  The  archbishop  of  Novogorod, 
arrayed  in  his  sacerdotal  robes,  accompanied  by  a  train  of  priests, 
to  whom  long  beards  and  hoary  heads  gave  a  venerable  appear- 
ance, waited  at  the  altar  to  receive  her,  placed  on  her  head  the 
imperial  crown,  and  in  a  loud  voice,  proclaimed  her  under  the 
name  of  Catherine  II.,  sovereign  of  all  the  Russias;  declaring 
at  the  same  time  the  young  grand  duke,  Paul  Petrovitch,  to  be 
her  successor.  A  Te  Deum  was  then  chanted,  accompanied  by 
the  shouts  of  the  multitude. 

Peter  was  thunderstruck  at  the  intelligence  of  the  revolution. 
After  several  ineffectual  attempts  to  regain  the  favor  of  the 


EEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  161 

people,  he  was  induced  by  the  treacherous  counsel  of  IsmailofT,  to 
give  himself  up  as  a  prisoner ;  when  he  was  treated  with  much 
indignity.  He  was  prevailed  upon  to  sign  a  paper,  renouncing 
all  claims  to- the  crown.  He  was  afterwards  removed  to  a  little 
imperial  retreat,  at  Ropscha,  where  he  w^as  barbarously  poison- 
ed, and  suffocated  by  Alexius  Orloff  Of  her  innocence  of  this 
atrocious  act,  the  general  conduct  and  character  of  the  empress 
seems  to  afford  a  presumption  ;  at  least  it  appears  probable  that 
respecting  so  horrible  a  service,  her  partisans  "vvould,  from  de- 
cency forbear  to  consult  her :  a  subject  so  delicate,  and  of  so 
difficult  decision,  to  lead  to  the  side  of  candor  is  the  undoubted 
part  of  the  historian.  The  victim  of  his  v»^eakness  rather  than 
of  his  vices,  it  is  impossible  not  to  contemplate  the  fate  of  Peter 
with  the  sincerest  commiseration.  While  Catherine  governed 
her  subjects  with  a  lenity  to  which  they  had  been  strangers, 
she  displayed  to  foreign  courts  the  strength  of  her  character. 
Combining  policy  with  firmness,  she  found  means  to  soothe  the 
most  dangerous  of  the  clergy,  and  to  stop  the  cabals  of  the 
monks.  Ambition  had  not  stifled  in  her  bosom  the  love  of 
pleasure,  by  which  she  attached  to  herself  the  courtiers ;  but 
amusement  was  not  suffered  to  interfere  with  business.  The  em- 
press applied  herself  alternately  to  either  with  equal  attention, 
and  with  equal  ardor.  She  assisted  at  the  deliberation  of  the 
council,  read  the  despatches  from  her  ambassadors,  dictated,  or 
with  her  own  hand  minuted,gthe  answers  to  be  sent,  and  attend- 
ed to  the  details  of  their  execution.  Jealous  of  glory,  she 
placed  before  her  as  models  the  example  of  those  monarchs 
who  had,  by  their  illustrious  qualities  and  the  grandeur  of  their 
exploits,  effaced  the  recollection  of  their  weaknesses;  and  -with 
the  frailty  of  men,  merited,  as  the  friends  and  benefactors  of 
their  species,  the  praise  and  gratitude  of  posterity.  "  We 
should  be  constant  in  our  plans,"  said  she,  "  it  is  better  to  do 
amiss,  than  to  alter  our  purpose — none  but  fools  are  irresolute.'" 
Such  were  her  favorite  maxims. 

While  the  empire  enjoyed  peace  with  foreign  princes,  inter- 
nal maladies  fermented  in  its  bosom,  which  neither  the  severity 

nor  the  clemency  of  the  empress  had  yet  been  able  wholly  to 

14* 


162  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

eradicate:  the  state  of  the  finances,  and  the  dictates  of  policy, 
forbade  her  to  divert  the  attention  of  the  public  by  brilliant  no 
velties  or  successful  enterprises.  The  administration  of  her 
estates,  the  advancement  of  commerce,  the  augmentation  of  the 
marine,  and  the  revenues  of  the  nation,  engrossed,  by  turns,  her 
attention  and  care.  The  necessity  for  economy  was  pressing 
and  obvious,  but  the  temper  of  Catherine,  and  the  magnificence 
of  her  spirit,  Avould  not  permit  her  to  renounce  that  oriental 
splendor,  for  which,  since  the  commencement  of  the  reign  of 
Elizabeth,  the  court  of  Petersburg  had  been  distinguished  and 
famed :  a  splendor  which  appeared  the  more  necessary  during 
a  profound  peace,  and  in  an  unsettled  state  of  the  empire,  to  at- 
tract and  dazzle  the  eyes  of  the  nation. 

After  the  business  with  her  ministers  was  transacted,  the 
empress  would  converse  in  private  with  Besturcheff  and  Mu- 
nich. With  the  former  she  studied  politics  and  the  affairs  of 
Europe  ;  while  the  latter  consulted  her  respecting  the  execution 
of  a  plan,  meditated  during  his  exile  in  Siberia,  for  driving  the 
Turks  from  Constantinople ;  a  project  which  gratified  her  as- 
piring temper. 

But  in  distant  views  of  ambition  or  interest,  the  empress  neg- 
lected not  her  domestic  regulations ;  she  studied  the  duties  of  a 
sovereign,  and  considered  herself  as  the  mother  of  her  people, 
whom  she  treated  with  confidence,  and  whose  condition  she 
ameliorated.  In  her  first  maniftsto  on  her  accession  to  the 
throne,  she  says,  "  We  wish  to  prove  how  far  we  merit  the 
love  of  our  people,  for  whose  happiness  we  acknowledge  our 
throne  to  be  established:  and  we  solemnly  promise  on  our 
imperial  word,  to  make,  in  the  empire,  such  arrangements, 
that  the  government  may,  with  an  intrinsic  force,  support  it- 
self within  proper  and  limited  bounds  ;  each  department  of  the 
state  being  provided  with  wholesome  laws,  sufficient  to  the  pre 
servation  of  order,  at  all  times,  and  in  all  circumstances." 

Catherine  ordained  that  torture  should  no  more  be  used  in  the 
investigation  of  truth ;  and  with  Frederick  of  Prussia,  afforded 
on  this  occasion  an  example  to  Europe,  Her  criminal  laws 
breathe  throughout  a  spirit,  mild  and  gentle;  if  she  made  no 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  163 

VOWS,  like  Elizabeth,  her  predecessor,  to  avoid  the  infliction  of 
death,  capital  punishments  were,  during  her  long  reign,  very  rare. 

Amidst  these  regulations,  she  neglected  not  the  study  of  a  more 
important  science,  that  of  human  nature  and  of  her  own  mind, 
of  which  she  truly  appreciated  the  powers  and  resources.  In  a 
confidential  conversation  with  the  minister  of  France,  she  re- 
quired of  him  his  opinion  respecting  the  duration  of  a  peace, 
recently  concluded  between  Austria  and  Prussia.  The  minister 
replied,  "  that  the  exhaustion  of  the  people,  and  the  Avisdom  of 
the  sovereigns,  seemed  to  promise  a  long  tranquility,"  but  added, 
with  a  compliment  to  her  sagacity,  "  that  she,  who  by  her  forces 
could  direct  them  at  will,  was  better  enabled  to  appreciate  the 
political  systems  of  the  courts  of  Europe."  "You  think  then," 
said  Catherine,  assuming  an  air  of  humility,  "  that  Europe  at 
present  has  its  attention  fixed  on  me,  and  that  I  am  not  without 
weight  in  foreign  courts."  The  ambassador,  of  course,  replied 
in  the  affirmative.  The  empress  having  listened  to  him  with 
apparent  pleasure,  exclaimed  with  dignity,  "  I  do  indeed  believe 
that  Prussia  merits  attention.  I  have  the  finest  army  in  the 
world.  I  am  short  of  money,  it  is  true,  but  shall  be  abundantly 
provided  within  a  few  years.  If  I  give  the  reins  to  my  incli- 
nation, my  taste  is  for  war  rather  than  for  peace,  but  reason, 
justice,  and  humanity,  restrain  me.  Yet  I  will  not,  like  the 
empress  Elizabeth,  allow  myself  to  be  pressed  to  make  war. 
Whenever  it  shall  prove  to  my  advantage,  I  w^ll  assuredly  enter 
upon  it;  but^ never  through  complaisance  to  others."  To  this 
she  added,  "  that  till  after  five  years,  the  world  could  not  properly 
judge  of  her  character ;  that  period  it  would  at  last  require  to 
reduce  the  empire  to  order,  and  to  reap  the  fruit  of  her  cares. 
In  the  mean  time,  she  should  act  towards  all  the  princes  of 
Europe  like  a  finished  coquette."  These  expressions,  which 
the  minister  imputed  to  vanity  were  literally  true. 

The  beneficial  consequences  of  the  regulations  and  establish- 
ments of  Catherine,  became  daily  more  apparent  through  all 
parts  of  the  empire.  The  government  more  simply  organized 
and  animated  with  a  new  energy,  displayed  a  spirit  of  independ 
ence  worthy  ?.  great  nation.     "  The  volumes  of  modern  history," 


164  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

says  a  historian,  "  can  produce  no  reign  like  this ;  for  no  mon- 
arch has  ever  yet  succeeded  in  the  attainment  of  such  a  dictatur^ 
in  the  grand  republic  of  Europe  as  Catherine  II.  now  holds; 
and  none  of  all  the  kings,  who  have  heretofore  given  cause  to 
dread  the  erection  of  a  universal  monarchy,  seem  to  have  any 
knowledge  of  human  nature;  she  presents  herself  with  the  pride 
of  a  conqueror  in  the  m.ost  perilous  situations,  and  with  a 
total  new  dignity,  in  the  most  common  transactions.  And  it  is 
manifestly  not  only  the  supreme  authority  which  here  gives 
law,  but  the  judgment  which  knows  when  to  show  that  authority, 
and  when  to  employ  it." 

Catherine  knew  how  to  assign  limits  to  the  encroachments  of 
those  whom  she  favored  with  her  esteem  and  friendship ;  to 
punish  those  w^ho  had  offended  her ;  and  to  issue  her  commands 
with  mildness  and  firmness.  Mistress  of  her  passions,  however 
moved,  she  controlled  their  emotions,  and  appeared  tranquil  till 
the  moment  when  the  maturity  of  her  plans  insured  success. 
Judicious  in  her  bounty,  she  bestowed,  by  her  manner  of  con- 
ferring them,  a  double  value  on  her  favors.  While  she  gave 
laws  to  Poland,  amused  Austria,  conciliated  Prussia,  and  treated 
with  England,  she  extorted  the  respect  of  every  court  in  Europe. 
She  gave  to  the  commerce  of  Russia  a  new  spirit,  augmented 
its  navy,  softened  the  manners  of  the  people,  and  advanced  the 
progress  of  civilization. 

In  the  midst  of  these  occupations,  the  turbulence  of  internal 
division  continued  to  interrupt  and  harrass  her;  every  day 
teemed  with  plots  and  conspiracies,  from  which  her  prudence 
and  her  fortune  combined  to  deliver  her.  The  favors  she  shower- 
ed on  those  whom  it  was  important  to  conciliate,  but  stimulated 
their  rapacity;  her  punishments,  though  secret  and  terrible, 
proved  unavailing  to  preserve  her  from  new  outrages. 

Useful  institutions  were  erected,  and  reform  made ;  the  tribu- 
nals were  corrected,  schools  founded,  hospitals  bulk,  and  colonies 
planted.  She  sought  to  inspire  the  nation  with  a  respect  for  the 
laws,  and,  by  instruction,  to  soften  their  manners.  Rapacious 
of  power,  and  jealous  of  glory,  she  aimed  at  once  to  be  a  legis- 
latrix  and  a  conqueror.     Amidst  internal  dissensions,  and  prepa- 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  165 

rations  for  war,  amidst  public  pleasures  and  private  indulgen- 
cies,  she  committed  nothing  that  might  attract  the  admiration  of 
her  contemporaries,  and  consign  her  name  with  renown  to  pos- 
terity. 

Peter  the  Great,  so  worthy  of  admiration,  and  so  justly  cele- 
brated, had  framed  no  permanent  laws.  To  Catherine  II.  the 
work  of  legislation  was  left ;  it  was  she  only  who,  having  con- 
ceived the  grand  idea,  had  the  courage  and  magnanimity  to  put 
it  in  execution.  A  code  of  laws,  founded  on  truth  and  justice, 
was,  by  a  woman,  presented  to  the  Russian  empire. 

Proud  of  the  work  which  had  obtained  her  this  flattering 
homage,  copies  of  her  instructions  were  dispatched  to  those 
sovereigns  whose  esteem  she  courted.  Having  complimented 
her  labors,  they  hesitated  not  to  pronounce,  that  they  would 
aflbrd  to  her  honor  an  eternal  monument.  The  king  of  Prussia, 
among  other  flattering  observations,  thus  expressed  himself: 
Semiramis  commanded  armies,  Elizabeth  of  England  was  ac- 
counted a  politician,  but  no  woman  has  hitherto  been  a  legisla- 
trix ;  a  glory  reserved  for  the  empress  of  Russia,  who  so  well 
deserves  it. 

Catherine  died  very  suddenly,  on  the  fifth  of  November,  1796. 
She  still  retained  at  her  death,  vestiges  of  beauty,  though  nearly 
seventy  years  of  age.  She  was  of  the  middle  stature,  and  carry- 
ing her  head  high,  appeared  tall.  Her  hair  was  auburn ;  her 
eye-brows  dark,  and  her  eyes  blue;  her  countenance,  though 
not  deficient  in  expression,  never  betrayed  what  passed  in  her 
mind ;  a  mistress  of  dissimulation,  she  knew  how  to  command 
her  features.  She  became  corpulent  as  she  advanced  in  years, 
yet  her  carriage  was  graceful  and  dignified.  In  private  she  in- 
spired, by  her  conciliatory  manners,  confidence  and  good  humor, 
youth,  playfulness,  and  gaiety  appeared  to  surround  her.  But 
in  public,  and  on  proper  occasions,  she  knew  how  to  assume 
the  empress,  to  appear,  the  Semiramis  of  the  North,  and  to 
awe  by  her  frowns.  She  wore  a  green  gown  or  vest,  with  close 
sleeves  reaching  to  the  wrist :  her  hair  lightly  powdered,  and 
flowing  upon  her  shoulders,  was  crowned  with  a  small  cap 
covered  with  diamonds  :  in  the  latter  period  of  her  life  she  put 


166  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

on  a  great  quantity  of  rouge.  In  her  habits  and  diet  she  was 
strictly  temperate :  she  took  a  light  breakfast,  ate  a  moderate 
dinner,  and  had  no  supper. 

The  estimate  of  her  character  must  be  formed  from  her  actions  : 
her  reign  was  perhaps  for  her  people  rather  brilliant  than  happy. 
Within  the  circle  of  her  influence,  her  government  was  mo- 
derate and  benign ;  at  a  distance  terrible  and  despotic ;  under 
the  protection  of  her  favorites,  justice,  order,  and  law,  were 
sometimes  violated,  and  the  most  odious  tyranny  practised  with 
impunity.  Her  situation  in  the  empire,  delicate  and  often  criti- 
cal, restrained  her  judgment ;  it  was  by  suflfering  her  power  to 
be  abused  that  she  was  enabled  to  preserve  it ;  she  knew  how 
to  reward,  but  dared  not  always  punish. 

For  her  licentiousness  as  a  woman  no  excuse  can  be  offered ; 
as  a  sovereign  she  must  be  allowed  the  title  of  great.  If  her 
love  of  glory  too  often  assumed  the  features  of  a  destructive  am- 
bition, the  praise  of  an  enlightened  and  magnanimous  mind 
cannot  be  denied  to  her. 

It  has  been  well  observed,  that  the  splendor  of  her  reign,  the 
magnificence  of  her  court,  her  institutions,  her  monuments,  and 
her  victories,  were  to  Russia  what  the  age  of  Louis  XIV.,  had 
been  to  Europe.  As  an  individual,  the  character  of  Catherine 
had  a  better  title  to  great.  The  French  formed  the  glory  of 
Louis,  Catharine  that  of  the  Russians ;  she  reigned  not  like 
him  over  a  polished  people,  nor  had  she  his  advantages.  She 
had  a  nation  to  form,  and  her  measures  were  her  own ;  however 
deceived  or  seduced,  she  suffered  not  herself  to  be  governed. 
Humane  and  generous,  cheerful  and  amiable,  she  constituted  the 
happiness  of  those  who  surrounded  her.  Her  active  and  regu- 
lar life,  her  firmness,  courage,  and  sobriety,  were  moral  qualities 
of  no  mean  value  ;  corrupted  by  prosperity,  and  intoxicated  with 
success,  her  errors  of  a  darker  hue,  were  those  of  her  station, 
rather  than  of  her  heart.  The  barbarous  country,  over  which 
she  reigned,  the  grossness  of  its  manners,  and  the  difficulties 
with  which  she  had  to  struggle,  must  not  be  forgotten  in  form- 
ing an  estimate  of  her  character.  Whatever  may  have  been  her 
faults,  and  doubtless  they  were  great,  her  genius,  her  talents,  her 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  167 

courage,  and  her  success,  must  ever  entitle  her  to  a  high  rank 
among  those  women  whose  qualities  and  attainments  have 
thrown  a  lustre  on  their  sex.  She  aspired  to  the  character  of 
an  author,  to  which,  by  her  celebrated  ''Instructions  for  a 
Code  of  Laws ^^  her  dramatic  pieces  and  proverbs,  her  tales  and 
allegories,  for  the  improvement  of  her  grand  children,  she  is 
justly  entitled.  Among  the  productions  of  her  pen,  her  "  Let- 
ters to  Voltaire"  are  accounted  the  most  interesting.  She  com- 
posed also  for  the  imperial  family  a  plan  of  education,  compiled 
principally  from  the  writings  of  Locke  and  Rosseau,  which  re- 
flects infinite  credit  on  her  liberality  and  discernment. 


Cornelia,  the  daughter  of  Scipio  Africanus  the  elder,  was 

the  mother  of  the  two  Gracchii.     She  is  sometimes  called  Sem- 

pronia,  a  name  common  to  the  female  decendants  of  the  Sempro- 

nii,  Gracchii  and  Scipios.     She  was  a  woman  of  great  learning 

and  virtue,  and  possessed  the  most  exalted  sentiments  of  human 

nature.     It  is  said  that  she  was  courted  by  a  king,  but  preferred 

being  the  wife  of  a  Roman  citizen,  to  that  of  a  monarch.     Her 

husband  Sempronius  was  a  man  of  exalted  character,  but  not  of 

the  patrician  order  as  she  was.     Sempronius  was  twice  consul 

and  once  censor.     He  made  war  in  Gaul,  and  met  with  much 

success  in  Spain.     Cornelia  was  early  in  life  a  widow,  and  had 

the  chief  care  of  her  children.     She  educated  them  in  the  great 

doctrines  of  liberty  and  patriotism,  and  foresaw  their  future  glory 

when  only  children.     The  story  of  her  pride  in  them  is  familiar 

to  all.     When  a  Campanian  lady  made  a  show  of  her  jewels  at 

Cornelia's  house,  and  entreated  her  to  favor  her  with  a  sight 

of  her  own,  Cornelia  produced  her  two  sons,  when  they  returned 

from  school,  saying,  "  these  are  the  only  jewels  of  which  I  can 

boast."     The  education  she  gave  them  made  them  inordinately 

ambitious,  but  at  the  same  time  nobly  patriotic.     When  they 

were  quite  young,  she  was  impatient  to  see  them  taking  a  part 

for  the  glories  of  Rome,  which  she  saw  were  expiring  in  the 

hands  of  the  patricians.     This  excellent  mother  did  not  leave 

their  education  even  when  they  had  reached  manhood,  for  she, 

by  her  eloquence  persuaded  them  to  study  Greek  philosophy, 


168  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

in  which  all  the  ennobling  principles  of  freedom  are  to  be  found. 
Tiberius,  the  eldest  son,  served  at  the  siege  of  Carthage,  and 
was  the  first  man  who  mounted  the  walls  of  the  burning  city. 
While  yet  a  mere  youth,  he  was  received  into  the  college  of 
augurs,  an  honor  conferred  upon  gray-headed  virtue.  He 
was  also  a  nujestor  to  the  Consul  Mansinus,  while  he  wasfed 
war  against  Neumantinus,  in  Spain.  His  diplomatic  talents 
were  conspicuously  displayed  in  making  a  treaty  with  this 
people,  favorable  to  Rome.  The  senate  were  too  corrupt  to 
ratify  an  honest  treaty ;  but  all  their  influence  could  not  make 
Tiberius  Gracchus  unpopular,  although  it  was  exerted  to  the 
fullest  extent. 

He  now  became  a  determined  enemy  of  the  senate,  and  his 
mother  prompted  him  to  a  vigorous  course  to  save  the  country 
from  the  baneful  effects  of  aristocracy.  He  saw  that  the  patri- 
cians ground  the  face  of  the  poor,  and  by  their  avarice  and 
extortion  had  made  the  mass  of  the  nation  wretchedly  destitute. 
On  his  return  from  the  army,  he  offered  himself  as  a  candidate 
for  the  tribuneship  of  the  people,  which  ofiice  rendered  his  per- 
son inviolable  as  long  as  he  was  entrusted  with  it,  and  placed 
him  in  a  situation  to  advance  the  great  plans  for  the  improvement 
of  the  condition  of  the  people  in  a  legal  way.  To  effect  this,  he 
revived  an  old  law,  passed  two  hundred  and  thirty-two  years 
before,  and  had  become  obsolete,  called  an  agrarian  law,  which 
enacted  that  no  more  than  five  hundred  acres  of  the  public  lands 
should  be  possessed  by  any  person.  This  law  was  revived  with 
many  softening  features ;  but,  yet  it  was  stoutly  opposed.  The 
most  alarming  convulsions  ensued.  He  was  opposed  by  Marcus 
Octavius,  his  colleague  in  the  tribune- ship,  who,  as  he  had  a 
legal  right,  put  his  veto  on  the  law;  but  Tiberius  appealed  to  the 
tribes,  and  Octavius  was  expelled  from  his  ofiice.  Tiberius 
found  great  difficulty  in  carrying  this  law  into  effect,  after  it  was 
passed.  The  time  for  another  election  came  round  again  before 
the  law  could  go  into  operation,  from  the  difficuhy  of  ascertaining 
what  were  public  and  what  were  private  lands ;  and  in  the 
tumults  of  this  election,  Tiberius,  and  three  hundred  of  his 
faithful  adherents,  were  slain.     The  aristocrats,  by  bribery  and" 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  169 

corruption,  carried  the  day,  and  gave  another  stab  to  the  liberties 
of  Rome.  The  Sempronian  or  agrarian  law  was  still  in  force ; 
that  is,  it  was  not  repealed;  and  there  was  a  state  of  confusion 
for  ten  years,  when  Cains  Gracchus  obtained  the  tribuneship,  in 
the  year  of  Rome  630.  He  was  a  man  of  more  talents  than  his 
brother,  and  had  lived  more  with  his  great  mother.  His 
eloquence  was  of  a  high  order  for  a  popular  assembly.  His 
voice  was  loud,  his  articulation  clear,  and  his  knowledge  of 
Roman  history  and  Rom'^n  politics,  all  from  the  instruction  of 
his  mother,  and  from  his  own  sagacity.  He  began  his  course  as 
tribune  by  striking  a  blow  at  his  brother's  enemies,  exiling  some 
of  the  most  influential  senators.  He  revived  his  brother's  law, 
and  united  to  it  some  of  the  most  popular  decrees,  viz. :  that 
monthly  distributions  of  corn  should  be  made  to  the  poor  in 
Rome,  and  ensured  his  soldiers  pay  and  clothing :  they  had 
previously  fought  only  for  fame.  He  was  idolized  by  the  people, 
and  his  enemies  greatly  weakened.  By  his  exertions,  the  eques- 
trian order  became  the  administrators  of  justice,  and  the  senate 
was  confined  to  their  political  and  executive  power.  This  noble 
feature  in  government  has  been  retained  to  the  present  day  in 
all  nations  who  boast  of  freedom.  In  these  struggles  for  the 
liberties  of  his  country,  enemies  arose,  who,  with  larger  promises, 
but  with  no  patriotism,  gained  the  hearts  of  the  fickle  populace. 
In  the  third  struggle  for  the  tribuneship,  Caius  lost  his  election; 
and  in  a  commotion,  which  arose  from  a  proposition  to  repeal 
a  part  of  the  Sempronian  law,  was  slain  with  several  thousand 
of  his  followers.  The  agrarian  law  was  not  long  repealed; 
but  the  senate  had,  by  his  power,  and  eloquence,  and  measures, 
received  a  vital  stab.  They  never  again  secured  their  power,  or 
regained  the  reverence  which  for  ages  they  had  received  from 
the  people.  Cornelia  survived  her  son  Caius,  and  gloried  in  the 
struggles  he  had  made  for  liberty.  When  some  one  offered  her 
the  usual  condolence  on  the  death  of  her  son,  she  replied,  "  Can 
the  mother  of  the  Gracchii  want  consolation?"  It  is  not  too 
much  to  say,  that  the  enlightened  mind  of  Sempronia  Cornelia 
gave  to  government  the  division  of  the  judicial  from  the  legis- 
lative power,  which  is  the  strength  and  beauty  of  all  liberty. 

15 


170  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Eleanor  Davis.     The  character  of  man  is  not  only  domestic, 
but,  is  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  at  all  times,  connected  with  the 
public.     He  is  constantly  in  some  way  before  the  eyes  of  his 
fellow  citizens,  and  they  are  the  judges  of  his  understanding,  his 
disposition,  his  acquirements,  his  talents  and  his  virtues.     But 
this  is  not  the  case,  in  general,  with  woman ;    she  may  possess 
virtues  and  talents,  know^n  only  to  a  few  of  her   kindred   and 
friends,  and   may  pass  on  through  life  without   attracting  the 
notice,  or  securing  the  homage  her  virtues  deserve.     But  not- 
withstanding her  course  may  be  silent  and  unobtrusive,  yet  her 
influence  is  felt  in  the  education  of  her  children,  and  in  the  hap- 
piness of  those  around  her.     There  is  hardly  a  distinguished 
name  amongst  men,  the  direction  of  whose  course,  and  the  first 
impress  of  whose  character,  could  not  be  traced  to  a  virtuous 
and  an  intellectual  mother  ;  and  some  of  the  finest  effusions  of 
genius  in  the  literature  of  all  countries,  are  found  in  the  acknow- 
ledgement of  this  debt  of  gratitude  to  those  who   rocked  the 
cradle  of  infancy,  taught  the  new-born   limbs   their   uses,  the 
tongue  its  first  accents,  and  watched  the  first  rays  of  mental  light 
to  kindle  them  into  thought,  and,  as  it  were,  to  assist  the  bene- 
ficent Creator  in  forming  man  after  his  own  image.     The  phi- 
losopher, the   philanthropist,  and   even  the  conunon   observer, 
know  and  appreciate  these  silent  and  constant  virtues  of  woman ; 
but  the  biographer,  from  various  causes,  seizes  upon  the  splendid, 
the  beautiful,  or  the  extremely  unfortunate,  for  his  page,  as  easier 
to  draw  and  finish,  and  more  attractive  in  exhibition,  than  solid 
worth ;   but  were  we  to  sit  down  with  patience,  and  mark  the 
lineaments  of  a  quiet,  delicate,  and  refined  woman,  in  her  retire- 
ment, the  labor  would  be  more  valued  than  the  details  of  a  battle 
field,  or  the  wonders  of  a  traveller  in  a  distant  land.     The  sacred 
writings  are  sweetly  interspersed  with  sketches  of  female  excel- 
lence.    Women  are  described  as   holding  high  places  in  the 
walks  of  poetry,  prophecy,  government,  and  religion.    The  songs 
of  Miriam  and  Deborah,  the  fervent  piety  of  Hannah,  the  lofty 
courage  and  commanding  talents  of  Judith,  the  faith  of  Anna, 
and  the  devotion  of  Mary,  are  naturally  and  charmingly  inter- 
woven with  the  history  of  the  Jews  and  the  progress  of  religion. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  171 

Every  age  of  civilization  has  left  some  permanent  record  of  their 
influence  upon  the  destinies  of  man.  There  was  not  a  district  in 
Greece  which  did  not  produce  distinguished  females,  whose 
names  have  come  down  to  us  as  models  of  virtue ;  and  where 
Lucretia  bled,  and  the  mother  of  the  Gracchii  brought  up  her 
sons,  the  proudest  orators  have  breathed  the  noblest  strains  of 
their  eloquence  over  departed  females — the  illustrious  matrons 
of  Rome.  On  the  revival  of  letters  in  the  fourteenth  century, 
the  female  mind  was  richly  cultivated,  and  took  a  higher  rank  in 
the  scale  of  mental  dignity,  than  the  dark  ages  had  suffered  it  to 
assume.  Women,  perhaps,  are  more  generally  enlightened  at 
the  present  day,  than  in  any  period  of  history ;  but  modesty  is 
now  considered  the  choicest  jewel  in  the  casket  of  female  worth, 
and  a  shrinking  delicacy  has  prevented  many,  of  the  first  grade 
of  eminence,  from  suffering  themselves  to  be  mentioned  to  the 
public  while  they  were  living,  and  their  friends,  infected  with  the 
same  feelings,  have  foreborne  to  write  their  epitaphs.  If  this  sen- 
timent had  always  been  indulged,  "  Sidney^ s  sister  and  Pem- 
broke's mother^^  would  never  have  been  held  up  as  an  example 
of  goodness,  wisdom  and  purity.  The  good  sense  of  the  age, 
however,  is  struggling  with  this  overstrained  modesty,  and  is 
bringing  forward  the  merits  of  the  living  and  the  dead ;  and  the 
biographer  and  the  historian  are  preparing  ample  annals  of 
female  worth. 

The  subject  of  this  memoir,  Mrs.  Eleanor  Davis,  was  the 
daughter  of  William  Downs  Cheever,  Esq.,  a  distinguished 
merchant  of  Boston,  in  which  city  he  was  born  in  the  year  1720. 
He  was  a  grandson  of  Richard  Cheever,  of  the  city  of  Canter- 
bury, in  England,  who  emigrated  to  this  country  when  only  a 
child,  in  1668.  The  second  son  of  Richard  was  Daniel,  the 
father  of  William  D.  Cheever ;  he  was  born  in  Boston,  in  1696. 
The  father  of  Mrs.  Davis  was  a  merchant  in  extensive  business, 
previous  to  the  revolution,  and  was  considered  an  intelligent, 
active  and  upright  man.*     He  died  in  1778,  much  lamented  by 

*  In  the  year  1637,  there  came  over  from  Canterbury,  in  England,  a  certain 
Bartholomew  Cheever,  aged  then  about  thirty  years,  who  settled  here  in  Bos- 
ton.   With  what  he  brought,  by  his  frugality  and  industry,  he  saved  a  hand- 


172  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

that  good  people  of  the  commonwealth.  Blest  with  consider- 
able property,  he  gave  his  children  every  advantage  the  country 
afforded  in  their  education,  which  they  improved  to  the  satis- 
faction of  a  fond,  indulgent  father.  Eleanor  Cheever,  his  daugh- 
ter, was  born  in  1750.  This  was  an  age  when  inquiry  had 
commenced,  and  many  of  the  prejudices  against  female  educa- 
tion were  passing  away.  A  daughter  was  taught  something 
more  than  simply  to  write  her  name,  if  occasion  should  require 
it,  to  a  bond  or  deed:  and  household  affairs,  though  well 
attended,  were  not  supposed  to  comprise  the  whole  duties  of 
woman.  On  early  associations,  depends,  in  a  great  degree,  the 
future  cast  of  character.  In  these  associations,  Mr.  Cheever' s 
family  were  indeed  fortunate,  for  amongst  his  most  imtimate 
friends,  was  the  great  Dr.  Mayhew,  pastor  of  the  Avest  church 
in  Boston.  These  gentlemen  were  of  the  same  age,  and  of 
kindred  tastes.  The  Doctor  was  an  ardent  controversialist,  and 
incessantly  engaged  in  the  great  work  of  advancing  the  march 
of  civil  and  religious  liberty.  With  deep  erudition  for  the  age  in 
which  he  lived,  with  expanded  views  of  man  and  his  duties,  of 
nature  and  her  laws,  of  God  and  his  protecting  care,  he  fear- 


some estate  for  the  then  times.  He  having  no  children  of  his  own,  in  1667, 
sent  to  Canterbury,  to  his  brother  Daniel,  for  one  of  his  sons;  the  two  first 
refused  coming;  his  third  and  youngest  son,  Richard,  then  seven  years  old, 
accepted,  and  in  1668  came  over  to  his  uncle,  and  brought  over  with  him  this 
bible;  when  leaving  Canterbury,  it  was  given  him  by  his  father's  sister,  Mary 
Fuller.  His  uncle  educated  and  brought  him  up.  In  16S0,  this  Richard  mar- 
ried, and  had  many  children,  sons  and  daughters.  His  eldest  son  he  called 
Bartholomew,  after  his  uncle  who  sent  for  and  educated  him.  In  the  year 
1693,  Bartholomew  Cheever  made  his  will,  and  died,  aged  eighty-six  years. 
He  left  many  legacies  to  his  brother  Daniel's  children  and  others.  One  full 
third  of  his  estate,  with  the  improvement  of  the  remainder,  he  left  to  his  wife 
Lydia,  during  her  natural  life;  and  after  her  death,  then  to  his  cousin  Richard, 
during  his  natural  hfe;  and  after  said  Richard's  decease,  then  to  said  Rich- 
ard's eldest  son  Bartholomew.  Richard  Cheever  died  in  France,  taken  sick 
on  his  way  home  to  England,  about  the  year  1704.  Bartholomew  Cheever, 
having  possession  of  the  estate  left  him  by  his  great  uncle  and  father,  im- 
proved the  same  many  years,  and  in  April  18th,  1772,  he  died  aged  eighty-eight 
years.  He  having  no  children,  and  having  buried  two  wives,  after  giving 
several  legacies,  left  the  use  and  residue  of  his  estate  to  me,  his  brother 
Daniel's  eldest  son,  who  had  then  been  sixteen  years  in  partnership  with  him 
in  the  sugar  baking  business. — From  the  family  bible  of  W.  D.  Cheever. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  173 

lessly  went  forth  to  the  conflicts  which  the  enlightened  are 
doomed  to  wage  with  bigots  in  religion  and  politics,  conscious 
of  his  strength,  and  well  skilled  in  his  weapons,  truth,  argu- 
ment, and  satire.  His  great  hopes  of  success  seemed  to  rest,  not 
on  his  contemporaries,  but  on  the  rising  generations,  who,  in 
his  mind,  were  to  have  opportunities  for  knowledge  far  superior 
to  those  which  their  fathers  had  enjoyed.  He  seized  all  occa- 
sions to  give  them  instruction,  and  to  direct  their  intellectual  pur- 
suits. At  the  fireside  of  his  friend  and  parishioner,  Mr.  Cheever, 
Dr.  Mayhew  freely  discussed  the  great  objects  of  his  exertions, 
and  gave  his  reasons  for  believing  that  his  sentiments  would 
ultimately  prevail.  Mrs.  Davis  was  at  that  time  of  sufficient 
age  to  profit  by  these  conversations,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  of 
their  influence  on  her  opinions  and  feelings  through  life.  Such 
impressions,  so  engraven,  can  never  feel  the  benumbing  influence 
of  years,  particularly,  when  they  were  so  soon  consecrated  by 
the  death  of  their  author.  Dr.  Mayhew  died  in  1766,  in  the 
forty-sixth  year  of  his  age.  His  death  was  felt  as  the  extin- 
guishment of  a  great  light  in  the  intellectual  world.  The  lovers 
of  civil  and  religious  liberty  mourned  his  loss  as  the  loss  of 
one  Avho  was  lovely  and  pleasant  in  his  life,  and  of  one  also^ 
who,  in  all  his  contests,  when  he  went  for  the  ark  of  God,  came 
back  victorious ;  one  whose  bow  turned  not  back,  and  whose 
sword  returned  not  empty,  when  he  assailed  the  Philistines 
w^ho  had  attacked  the  camp  of  Israel. 

Eleanor  Cheever  was  married  to  Caleb  Davis  in  1787.  She 
had  lived  a  single  life  to  a  period  when  it  may  be  supposed  that 
she  cousulted  her  judgment  in  the  choice  of  a  husband.  At 
the  time  of  this  marriage,  Mr.  Davis  was  a  widower,  with 
several  children ;  but  he  was  distinguished  for  talents,  sweetness 
of  disposition,  correct  morals,  and  a  religious  life  and  conver- 
sation, and  was  then  in  office,  both  in  church  and  state.  He  was 
a  deacon  of  Hollis  Street  Church — had  been  speaker  of  the 
house  of  representatives — was  then  a  member  of  the  senate  of 
the  commonwealth,  for  Suffolk,  and  afterwards  closed  his  public 
services  as  a  member  of   the   convention  which   adopted  the 

federal  constitution.     He  filled  all  the  offices  he  was  called  to 

15* 


174  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

accept,  with  ability  and  integrity,  but  in  the  convention  he  was 
peculiarly  useful,  from  his  extensive  acquaintance  with  the  mem- 
bers from  the  country,  by  the  way  of  business,  and  as  a  member 
of  the  general  court.  This  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  meet 
his  old  friends,  and  to  communicate  with  them  freely  on  the 
necessity  of  establishing  some  form  of  government  for  the 
United  States.  All  the  talents  of  the  ablest  politicians  of  that 
day,  were  put  in  requisition  to  wrestle  with  the  prejudices  of 
those  who  feared  to  part  with  power,  which  might  never  be 
regained,  and  to  close  in,  and  grapple  with  the  demagogue, 
whose  chance  of  distinction  in  a  great  measure  depended  upon 
the  agitations  of  society. 

This  connexion  proved  a  happy  one.  They  had  two  chil- 
dren, a  daughter  and  a  son;  but  still  it  was  a  union  which  tried 
her  virtues,  the  constancy  of  her  attachment,  and  the  strength 
of  her  understanding;  for  the  latter  part  of  her  husband's  days 
was  to  him  only  a  nominal  existence.  The  powers  of  his  mind 
and  body  were  instantly  prostrated  by  a  paralysis.  There  is 
nothing  in  this  world  of  sorrow  more  painful  to  a  feeling  heart, 
than  to  see  "  a  mighty  mind  o'erthrown,"  and  a  once  graceful 
jform  wasting  with  a  lingering  and  incurable  disease.  For 
many  years,  while  her  husband  was  in  that  state,  Mrs.  Davis 
performed  the  duties  of  a  nurse  to  him,  and  gave  up  all  society 
to  attend  him;  and  it  will  never  be  forgotten  by  his  kindred  and 
friends,  that  her  patience  was  never  exhausted,  nor  her  kindness 
towards  him  ever  impaired.  She  kept,  for  years,  a  constant 
vigil  over  the  sufferer,  and  with  connubial  solicitude  and  medi- 
cal skill  marked  each  successive  tremor,  and  met  with  increased 
affection  each  new-born  weakness,  until  exhausted  nature  sunk 
to  the  grave ;  and  then  she  was  not  relieved,  as  one  might  have 
expected  her  to  have  been,  after  such  uncommon  exertions,  but 
she  mourned  his  loss  as  though  he  had  died  in  the  possession 
of  his  faculties,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  usefulness.  This  is 
friendship  which  is  something  more  than  a  name,  or  a  shade 
which  follows  wealth  and  fame.  This  is  love  which  is  not  an 
empty  sound,  but  is  as  pure  as  that  which  warms  the  nestling, 
and  is  as  imperishable  as  the  soul  on  which  it  is  engrafted.     At 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  175 

this  bereavement  she  found  consolation  in  the  attentions  and 
conversation  of  her  friend  and  pastor,  the  Rev.  Dr.  West,  of  the 
Hollis  Street  Church,  with  which  she  became  connected  on  her 
marriage  with  Mr.  Davis.  She  was  again  singularly  happy  in 
this  acquaintance,  for  the  doctor  united  the  kindest  elements  of 
our  nature  with  the  refinements  of  taste,  the  charms  of  know- 
ledge, and  the  graces  of  religion.  If  her  first  mental  and  spirit- 
ual guide  bore  a  resemblance  to  him  who  was  the  harbinger  of 
revelation,  and  who  cried  in  the  wilderness  to  prepare  the 
way,  the  second  had  no  small  share  of  those  evangelical  virtues 
which  distinguished  him  whom  his  master  loved,  and  suffered 
to  repose  on  his  bosom.  Such  men  are  born  to  soothe  the  widow 
in  her  grief,  and  to  bless  the  lonely  orphan. 

At  the  death  of  her  husband,  Mrs.  Davis  found,  from  his  pro- 
tracted sickness,  that  his  affairs  were  in  no  small  confusion;  but 
this  did  not  dismay  her.  She  commenced  a  system  for  retriev- 
ing them,  which  at  once  showed  her  capability  and  aptitude  for 
business.  Her  agents  were  judiciously  selected,  but  however 
confidential  they  might  be,  she  never  relied  entirely  upon  them, 
but  constantly  supervised  their  doings ;  and  by  this  steady  exact- 
ness, this  caution  and  perseverance,  one  difficulty  after  another 
vanished,  and  order  and  stability  ensued.  But  when  this  was 
effected,  she  did  not,  as  most  women  would  have  done,  retire 
from  business,  and  live  on  the  income  of  her  property.  She  had 
found  that  her  business  had  been  profitable,  and  her  agent  wor- 
thy of  all  confidence,  and  in  her  mind  the  course  was  plain  ;  and 
her  exertions,  though  confined  to  a  succinct  course,  ceased  only 
with  her  life. 

In  all  our  concerns,  from  the  highest  to  the  humblest  station, 
much  depends  upon  those  we  seek  for  counsel  and  advice. 
There  are  many  times,  on  the  journey  of  life,  where  the  path- 
way is  doubtful,  from  diverging  roads  and  equivocal  aspects. 
Then  the  honest  and  way-wise  traveller  is  of  incalculable  advan- 
tage to  us.  In  arranging  her  affairs  after  the  death  of  her  hus- 
band, Mrs.  Davis  found  in  her  brother  in  law,  John  Derby, 
Esq.,  such  a  counsellor  and  friend.  He  had  been  abroad,  and 
was  well  acquainted  with  business,  and  always  kept  the  interests 


176  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

of  his  friends  near  his  heart.  He  entered  fully  into  the  welfare 
of  Mrs.  Davis  and  her  family,  and  such  was  his  attention  and 
substantial  friendship  to  them,  that  it  seemed  heaven  had  written 
him  childless,  that  her  children  might  find  in  him  a  father,  when 
'^         their  father  was  no  more. 

I  As  a  mother,  Mrs.   Davis  was  fond  and  indulgent,  but  her 

affection  seldom  overcame  her  prudence.     Her  son  was  sent  to 

Harvard  University  for  his  education,  and  while  he  was  about 

I     •'     commencing  the  study  of  the  law,  he  was  taken  sick  of  a  fever, 

^     •     which,  in  a  few  days,  terminated  his  existence.     This  was  to  his 

mother  a  severe  dispensation  of  Providence,  for  the  youth  was 

^  amiable,  virtuous,  well  talented,  and  mature  and  grave  beyond 

C*\      his  years.     This  calamity  was  deep  and  lasting.     There  is  a  tie 

between  a  mother  and  a  son,  which  is  one  of  the  noblest  and 

^.   "      purest  in  nature ;  it  reaches  every  fold  of  the  mind,  and  lives  in 

i|  j      every  pulsation  of  the  heart ;  it  is  generally  kept  more  perfect 

f  ^      than  other  bonds  of  unity ;  natural  affection,  satisfaction,  pride 

^'        and  fond  anticipation,  guarding  it  on  on  side,  and  retrospection, 

^'        gratitude  and  love,  on  the  other.     But  deep  and  incurable  as 

this  misfortune  was,  it  did  not  disturb  the  serenity  of  her  soul, 

nor  interrupt  the  tenor  of  her  way.     This  is  fortitude,  such  as 

depends  not  on  a  momentary  excitement  of  energy  or  pride,  but 

that  which  springs  from  fixed  principles,  and  a  firm  belief  that 

>,         the  hand  of  God  is  in  the  chastenings  of  his  children. 

Some  years  since,  when  the  Boston  Female  Asylum  was  pro- 
posed to  the  ladies  of  that  city,  Mrs.  Davis  saw  at  once  the  utility 
as  well  as  the  benevolence  of  this  plan.  At  the  present  day, 
this  might  be  supposed  as  a  matter  of  course  to  one  who  had 
sufiicient  means  to  indulge  a  charitable  disposition ;  but  it  was 
not  so  then ;  there  were  a  great  many  prejudices  against  such 
an  institution.  The  political  economists  thought  that  the  way 
to  prevent  misery  was  never  to  relieve  the  distressed ;  and  talked 
a  world  of  nonsense  about  the  table  of  nature's  bounty  being" 
full,  and  that  there  were  no  places  left;  that  suffering  was  the 
only  means  of  preventing  pauperism.  But  the  intelligent  dames 
of  an  enlightened  and  charitable  community,  shrinking  from 
such  cold-blooded  and  unrig^hteous  doctrine,  and  reasoning  from 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  177 

safer  and  better  principles,  those  nearer  the  heart,  set  about  esta- 
blishing the  institution,  and  have  proved  by  its  success  the  wis- 
dom of  the  plan.  Not  only  the  matrons  of  that  charitable  city 
were  engaged  in  the  work,  but  the  sympathies  of  the  young  and 
lovely  were  enlisted ;  and  its  interests  are  now  so  closely  con- 
nected with  the  feelings  of  every  female  heart,  that  its  perma- 
nency is  certain.  Whatever  is  cherished  from  such  a  source, 
must  flourish  in  perennial  beauty.  Mrs.  Davis  spared  no  pains 
to  facilitate  the  undertaking;  and  when  Mrs.  Perkins,  the 
respected  and  venerable  mother  of  the  eminent  merchants  of 
that  name  in  Boston,  resigned  the  office  of  treasurer  of  this 
institution,  a  highly  responsible  situation,  Mrs.  Davis  was  chosen 
to  supply  the  vacancy,  in  which  office  she  continued  until  her 
death.  Her  last  testament  bore  substantial  proofs  how  near  the 
asylum  was  to  her  heart.  This  institution  is  managed  solely 
by  ladies,  and  it  may  be  confidently  asked,  without  fear  of  the 
response,  what  institution  in  our  comitry  has  been  better  con- 
ducted than  this  ? 

In  the  year  1811,  Mrs.  Davis  gave  her  daughter  in  marriage 
to  Dr.  George  C.  Shattuck,  a  young  gentleman  of  promise  in 
his  profession.  This  daughter  was  then  Mrs.  Davis's  only 
child ;  but  in  this  connexion  she  still  pursued  her  safe  course 
of  judicious  calculation.  She  had  seen  many  young  men  in 
professional  life,  injured  by  a  too  liberal  feeling  of  connexions 
in  the  commencement  of  their  career.  She  thought  and  reason- 
ed correctly,  that  in  a  country  like  ours,  in  which  every  thing 
depends  on  personal  exertions,  that  industry  and  prudence  were 
the  best  patrons  of  talents.  From  these  motives  she  permitted 
her  son  in  law  to  make  his  own  way  in  the  world,  and  felt  an 
honest  pride  in  seeing  him  rise  in  his  profession  by  his  own 
merits,  to  competency  and  distinction.  His  success  has  justified 
her  policy.  Perhaps  this  course  would  not  do  in  every  case. 
It  was  her  course,  and  has  been  successful. 

Mrs.  Davis  died  on  the  twenty-eight  of  January,  1 825,  in  the 
seventy-fifth  year  of  her  age.  She  left  this  world  satisfied  with 
Its  imperfect  enjoyments,  and  in  full  Christian  hopes  of  another 
and  a  better  beyond  the  grave. 


178  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

Mary  Dwight,  the  mother  of  president  Timothy  Dwight, 
of  Yale  College ;  was  the  daughter  of  the  far-famed  scholar, 
and  metaphysician,  Jonathan  Edwards ;  whose  works  have 
been  read,  studied,  circulated,  and  admired  in  both  hemispheres. 
She  was  born  in  1731,  while  her  father  was  a  clergyman  at 
Northampton.  The  daughters  of  this  profound  scholar  had 
every  advantage  of  education,  that  could  be  obtained  at  that 
time.  They  were  early  taught  to  think,  and  this  gave  them 
mental  vigor,  if  they  had  not  opportunities  of  obtaining  so  many 
accomplishments  as  the  daughters  of  distinguished  persons  in 
our  day  possess.  A  clergyman's  house  in  the  country,  was  a 
caravansary  for  all  traveling  ministers,  and  such  society  was 
of  great  importance  to  the  daughters  of  a  family.  The  traveler, 
in  order  to  be  social  and  agreeable,  brushes  himself  up  for  con- 
versation on  such  visits,  and  the  very  pains  taken  by  the  hostess 
and  her  daughters  to  entertain  their  friends,  makes  them  active 
and  social. 

Mrs.  Dwight  was  married  at  eighteen  years  of  age,  to  Timo- 
thy Dwight,  Esq.,  a  man  of  classical  education,  and  great 
enterprise.  Mrs.  Dwight's  peculiar  talent  for  directing  the 
infant  mind,  was  fully  developed  in  the  education  of  her  chil- 
dren. Her  oldest  son,  arose  from  the  cradle  a  prodigy.  She 
had  begun  his  instruction  as  soon  as  he  could  speak.  She 
anticipated,  in  a  measure,  the  system  of  Pestalozzi,  in  making 
letters  for  her  children  to  read,  in  the  sand  which  was  then 
used  as  an  ornament  for  the  floor,  instead  of  a  carpet.  In  his 
fourth  year,  her  eldest  son  could  read  in  the  bible,  with  accu- 
racy and  fluency.  At  six  years  old,  he  began  his  Latin  gram- 
mar, and  would  have  been  prepared  for  college  when  only 
eight,  if  the  school  had  not  been  broken  up,  or  if  his  friends  had 
not  been  apprehensive  of  injury  to  his  health  and  growth,  from 
incessant  study  at  so  tender  an  age.  She  directed  his  mind  to 
moral  dignity  and  religious  purity,  as  well  as  to  mental  attain- 
ments, and  he  was  as  pious  as  precocious.  Mrs.  Dwight  had 
several  children,  and  all  had  the  same  nursery  discipline ;  each 
one  was  directed  to  such  a  course  as  was  suited  to  his  capacity. 
Mrs.  Dwight  lost  her  husband  in  1777,  and  although  her  farm 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  179 

was  a  large  one,  yet  such  was  the  pressure  of  the  times,  during 
the  long  years  of  the  revolutionary  war,  that  she  had  to  struggle 
hard  to  hring  up  her  family,  but  this  was  effected  by  the  strictest 
economy ;  not  an  acre  of  the  farm  was  sold.  She  lived  to  a 
good  old  age,  respected  by  all  classes  in  the  community,  and 
beloved  by  her  children,  who  were  grateful  to  her  for  the 
education  she  had  given  them. 


Hannah  Duston.  This  woman  should  be  ranked  among 
the  heroines  of  antiquity.  She  was  the  wife  of  Thomas  Duston, 
of  Haverhill  in  Massachusetts;  born  in  the  year  1659,  and 
married  1677.  She  had,  altogether,  thirteen  children.  When  the 
Indians,  who  dwelt  at  the  sources  of  the  Merrimac  River,  and  in 
the  region  round  about,  after  a  great  freshet  on  the  fifteenth  of 
March,  1697,  came  down  the  river  and  attacked  Haverhill,  she 
was  confined  to  her  bed  with  an  infant  only  a  week  old.  Her 
husband  catching  the  alarm  from  the  field  fled  to  the  house,  and 
consulted  his  wife  on  the  course  he  should  pursue.  She  calmly 
told  him  to  leave  her  and  her  infant  to  their  fate,  and  to  make 
his  escape,  if  possible,  with  her  other  children.  He  sent  seven 
of  his  children  on  a  path  through  the  woods,  on  the  way  to  the 
garrison,  and  mounting  his  horse  he  followed  in  the  rear ;  with 
his  musket  he  kept  the  pursuing  Indians  at  bay,  until  he  found 
his  charge  in  a  place  of  safety  at  the  garrison.  Before  Mr. 
Duston  reached  the  garrison,  the  Indians  returned  and  cap- 
tured his  sick  wife  and  Mary  Neif,  her  nurse.  They  with 
other  captives  took  up  their  march,  by  order  of  the  savages,  for 
the  north.  After  they  had  traveled  a  few  miles,  the  Indians 
found  the  infant  troublesome,  and  they  took  the  child  from  the 
nurse  and  dashed  its  brains  out  against  a  tree.  Mrs.  Duston 
was  feeble  and  wretched,  but  this  outrage  nerved  her  soul  for 
every  enterprise.  After  this  horrid  outrage,  she  wept  no  more ; 
the  agony  of  nature  drank  the  tear-drop  ere  it  fell.  She  looked 
to  heaven  with  a  silent  prayer  for  succor  and  vengeance,  and 
followed  the  infernal  group  without  a  word  of  complaint.  At 
this  instant,  the  high  resolve  was  formed  in  her  mind,  and 
swelled  every  pulse  of  her  heart.     They  traveled  on  some  dis- 


180  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

tance :  as  she  thought,  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  but  perhaps, 
from  the  course  they  took,  about  seventy-five.  The  river  had 
probably  been  broken  up  but  a  short  time,  and  the  canoes  of  the 
Indians  were  above  the  upper  falls,  on  the  Merrimack,  when 
they  commenced  their  journey  to  attack  Haverhill.  Above  these 
falls,  on  an  island  in  this  river,  the  Indians  had  a  wigwam,  and 
in  getting  their  canoes  in  order,  and  by  rowing  ten  miles  up  the 
stream,  became  much  fatigued.  When  they  reached  the  place 
of  rest,  they  slept  soundly.  Mrs.  Duston  did  not  sleep.  The 
nurse,  and  an  English  boy,  a  prisoner,  were  apprised  of  her 
design ;  but  were  not  of  much  use  to  her  in  the  execution  of  it. 
In  the  stillness  of  the  night  she  arose  and  went  out  of  the  wig- 
wam to  test  the  soundness  and  security  of  savage  sleep.  They 
moved  not  ;  they  were  to  sleep  until  the  last  day.  She  returned, 
took  one  of  their  hatchets  and  dispatched  ten  of  them  in  a  mo- 
ment, each  with  a  single  blow.  An  Indian  woman,  who  was 
rising  when  she  struck  her,  fled  with  her  probable  death-wound ; 
and  an  Indian  boy  was  designedly  spared ;  for  the  avenger  of 
blood  was  a  woman  and  a  mother,  and  could  not  deal  a  death- 
bloAV  upon  a  helpless  child.  She  surveyed  the  carnage  ground 
by  the  light  of  the  fire,  which  she  stirred  up  after  the  deed  was 
done ;  and  catching  a  few  handfuls  of  roasted  corn,  she  com- 
menced her  journey ;  but  on  reflecting  a  moment,  she  thought 
the  people  of  Haverhill  would  consider  her  tale  as  the  ravings 
of  madness,  when  she  should  get  home,  if  ever  that  time  might 
come;  she  therefore  returned,  and  scalped  the  slain;  then  put 
her  nurse  and  English  boy  into  the  canoe,  and  with  herself  they 
floated  down  to  the  falls,  when  she  landed,  and  took  to  the  woods, 
keeping  the  river  in  sight,  which  she  knew  must  direct  her  on 
her  way  home.  After  sufl^ering  incredible  hardships  by  hunger, 
cold,  and  fatigue,  she  reached  home,  to  the  surprise  and  joy  of 
her  husband,  children  and  friends.  The  general  court  of  Mas- 
sachusetts examined  her  story,  and  being  satisfied  of  the  truth 
of  it,  took  her  trophies,  the  scalps,  and  gave  her  fifty  pounds. 
The  people  of  Boston  made  her  many  presents.  All  classes 
were  anxious  to  see  the  heroine ;  and  they  found  her  as  modest 
as  brave. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  181 

ANNE  Dacier,  was  wife  of  Andrew  Dacier,  and  daughter 
of  Tanguy  Le  Fevre,  professor  of  Greek,  at  Samur  in  France, 
and  was  born  in  that  city  about  the  end  of  the  year  1651.  She 
was  about  eleven  years  old,  when  her  father  resolved  to  give 
her  a  learned  education;  and  the  occasion  of  his  taking  such  a 
resolution,  was  this :  while  he  was  teaching  one  of  his  sons  the 
rudiments  of  grammar,  in  the  same  room  where  Mademoiselle 
Le  Fevre  was  employed  with  her  needle,  she,  as  a  person  wholly 
unconcerned,  occasionally  supplied  her  brother  with  answers  to 
questions  which  puzzled  him.  Her  father  thus  discovering  her 
talents,  from  thence  gave  her  a  regular  course  of  instruction, 
and  brought  her  up  a  scholar,  In  1672,  her  father  died,  and 
the  year  following,  she  went  to  Paris,  whither  her  fame  had 
already  preceded  her.  She  was  then  preparing  an  edition  of 
"  Callimachus,"  which  she  published  in  1674.  Having  shown 
some  sheets  of  it  to  Mr.  Huet,  preceptor  to  the  dauphin,  and  to 
several  other  men  of  learning  at  the  court,  the  work  was  so 
highly  admired,  that  the  duke  of  Montausier  made  a  proposal 
to  her  of  publishing  several  Latin  authors,  for  the  use  of  the 
dauphin,  which,  though  she  rejected  at  first,  she  at  last  under- 
took, and  published  an  edition  of  "  Florus." 

Her  reputation  being  now  spread  all  over  Europe,  Christina, 
queen  of  Sweden,  ordered  her  ambassador  at  the  court  of 
France,  to  make  her  a  compliment  in  her  name,  upon  which 
Mademoiselle  Le  Fevre,  sent  the  queen  a  Latin  letter,  with  her 
edition  of  "  Florus,"  to  which  her  majesty  wrote  an  obliging  an- 
swer, and  not  long  after  sent  her  another  letter,  persuading  her 
to  abandon  the  protestant  religion,  and  making  her  considerable 
offers  to  settle  at  her  court.  This,  however,  she  declined,  and 
proceeded  in  the  task  she  had  undertaken,  of  preparing  authors 
for  the  use  of  the  dauphin,  in  which  she  proceeded  with  so  great 
activity  and  perseverance,  that,  previous  to  the  end  of  the  year 
1684,  she  had  published  no  less  than  twelve  volumes,  several 
of  which  have  been  repeatedly  printed  in  England,  as  well  as  in 
France. 

But,  in  the  midst  of  all  these  various  publications,"she,  in  the 

year  1683,  found  time  to  marry  M.  Dacier,  with  whom  she  had 

16 


182  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

been  brought  up  in  her  father's  house,  from  her  earliest  years. 
Soon  after  this,  she  declared  to  her  friends,  the  duke  of  Mon- 
tausier,  and  the  bishop  of  Meaux,  a  design  of  reconciling  herself 
to  the  church  of  Rome ;  but,  as  M.  Dacier  was  not  yet  con- 
vinced of  the  propriety  of  such  a  change,  they  thought  proper  to 
retire  to  Castres  in  1684,  in  order  to  examine  the  points  of 
controversy  between  the  protestants  and  the  Roman  catholics. 
They,  at  last,  determined  in  favor  of  the  latter,  and  made  their 
public  abjurations  accordingly,  in  1685,  after  which  the  king 
bestowed  considerable  marks  of  his  favor,  both  upon  the  hus- 
band and  wife.  She  still  continued  to  favor  the  world  with 
numerous  publications,  the  most  remarkable  of  which,  is  "  The 
Iliad  of  Homer,  translated  into  French,  with  notes,  in  3  vols. 
12mo.  1711 ;"  she  also  published  a  translation  of  the  "  Odyssey," 
executed  in  the  same  manner,  in  1716;  and  this,  so  far  as  we 
can  find,  was  the  last  thing  she  published.  She  had  two 
daughters  and  a  son,  to  whose  education  she  paid  the  greatest 
attention;  but  the  son  died  in  the  year  1694,  and  one  of  her 
daughters  became  a  nun ;  the  other,  who  is  said  to  have  united 
in  her,  all  the  virtues  and  accomplishments  of  her  sex,  died  at 
eighteen  years  of  age.  Her  mother  has  immortalized  her  me- 
mory in  the  preface  to  her  translation  of  the  Iliad.  Madame 
Dacier  was  in  a  very  infirm  state  of  health  the  two  last  years  of 
her  life ;  and  died  after  a  very  painful  sickness,  August  27th, 
1720,  aged  sixty -nine. 

Madame  Dacier  Avas  a  lady  of  great  virtue  as  well  as  learn- 
ing, and  remarkable  for  firmness,  generosity,  equality  of  temper 
and  piety.  Like  most  persons  possessed  of  superior  talents,  she 
was,  likewise,  a  woman  of  remarkable  modesty,  so  that  she 
could  seldom  be  prevailed  on  to  speak  upon  subjects  of  literature. 
The  character  of  such  an  one  puts  to  silence  a  thousand  tongues 
of  those  slanderers  of  literary  women,  who  represent  those  pro- 
minent for  talents  and  acquirements  as  destitute  of  the  ordinary 
feelings  of  mothers,  and  negligent  of  every  domestic  duty.  Such 
libels  are  readily  received  and  repeated,  when  not  believed,  by 
those  who  are  anxious  to  hide  their  own  ignorance  in  their 
ravings  against  the  enlightened. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  183 

Georgiana,  Duchess  of  Devonshire.  This  beautiful  and 
accomplished  lady,  of  whom,  on  her  demise,  the  prince  of  Wales 
is  said  to  have  exclaimed,  "  then  have  we  lost  the  most  amiable 
and  best  bred  woman  in  England,"  was  at  once  a  Cavendish 
and  a  Spencer ;  consequently  both  descended  from,  and  united 
to,  two  of  the  greatest  whig  families  in  England.  Her  grace, 
on  the  one  hand,  was  great-grand-daughter  of  the  famous  duke 
of  Marlborough,  who  vindicated  England  against  monarchical 
France,  in  the  celebrated  battles  of  Ramilies  and  Blenheim ; 
and  on  the  other,  the  wife  and  mother  of  two  lineal  descendants 
of  that  highly  meritorious  nobleman,  William,  the  fourth  earl  of 
Devonshire,  who  was  principally  instrumental  in  bringing  about 
the  revolution  of  1688. 

Georgiana,  duchess  of  Devonshire,  was  the  eldest  daughter 
of  the  late  John,  Earl  Spencer,  by  Georgiana  Caroline,  daughter 
of  John  Carteret,  Earl  Granville.  She  was  born  on  the  ninth  of 
June,  1757,  and  educated  under  the  immediate  care  of  her  ven- 
erable mother,  the  then  countess  dowager  Spencer,  •  From  her 
cradle  she  displayed  the  most  promising  symptoms  of  worth, 
and  loveliness ;  and,  while  yet  in  the  bud,  anticipated  the  beauty 
and  fragrance  of  the  future  rose.  Even  before  the  period  of  her 
presentation  at  court,  the  fame  of  lady  Georgiana' s  charms  had 
been  universally  spread;  and  all  were  equally  inquisitive  to 
learn  for  whom  fate  had  destined  so  lovely,  so  fascinating  a 
partner.  This  happy  lot  was  in  store  for  the  young  duke  of 
Devonshire,  to  whom  lady  Georgiana  was  united  on  the  sixth  of 
June,  1774,  three  days  before  she  had  completed  her  seventeenth 
year.  The  world  of  fashion  was  now  destined  to  undergo  a 
complete  revolution.  At  the  first  drawing-room  to  which  the 
young  duchess  repaired  after  her  marriage,  she  was  accompa- 
nied by  all  the  distinguished  females  of  the  two  great  families 
whence  she  was  descended,  and  perhaps  a  more  brilliant  day 
was  never  witnessed  at  St.  James's. 

"  The  bloom  of  opening  flowers,  unsullied  beauty, 

Softness  and  sweetest  innocence  she  wore, 

And  looked  like  nature  in  the  world's  first  spring," 


184  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

These  beautiful  lines  of  Rowe  may  perhaps  be  thought  but 
ill-applied  to  a  modern  woman  of  fashion,  in  a  court  dress,  and 
bending  beneath  a  load  of  jewellery ;  yet  there  Avas  such  a  sweet 
simplicity,  such  a  native  grace,  such  an  almost  angelic  loveliness 
in  her  appearance,  as  fully  to  justify  their  quotation.  The 
duchess  of  Devonshire  was,  on  that  day,  "the  observed  of  all 
observers."  One  little  anecdote,  connected  with  this  day  of  splen- 
dor, deserves  to  be  mentioned,  as  forming  a  contrast  to  the  taste 
of  the  present  times  :  "  the  bride  is  said  to  have  worn  a  pair  of 
diamond  buckles,  of  very  large  dimensions,  which,  either  from 
their  weight  or  pressure,  produced  a  lameness,  so  that  the  em- 
blazoned fair  one  was  obliged  to  remain  at  home  for  several  days 
after. 

The  duchess  now  became  the  leader  of  female  fashions ;  the 
apron,  the  gown,  the  cap,  were  all  Devonshire,  being  closely 
copied  from  the  clothes  which  were  worn,  or  supposed  to  be 
worn,  by  her.  In  the  present  day,  our  belles  of  ton  have  their 
Nelson  caps,  and  their  Trafalgar  pelices  ;  and,  when  the  contest 
with  America  gave  a  military  direction  to  public  affairs,  when 
men  of  the  first  rank  and  fortune  in  the  kingdom  were  proud  to 
emulate  the  life  and  habits  of  a  soldier,  the  duchess  of  Devon- 
shire was  seen  at  Tiptree  and  Warley  camps,  dressed  out  in  the 
regimentals  of  the  Derby  militia,  of  which  her  husband,  the 
duke,  was  colonel.  From  that  period,  all  the  women  both  young 
and  old,  from  the  love-sick  miss,  just  let  loose  from  boarding 
school,  to  the  great-grand-mamma  of  eighty,  were  seized  with  a 
kind  of  military  furor,  and  appeared,  even  during  the  dog-days, 
decked  out  in  scarlet  broad-cloth.  At  the  time  here  alluded  to, 
the  feminine  attire  and  mode  of  dress  were  far  different  from 
those  which  now  prevail.  Instead  of  a  transparent  muslin  dress, 
and  a  single  thin  calico  petticoat,  the  bell-hoop,  and  the  apparatus 
of  whalebone,  which  had  continued  from  the  age  of  the  Stuarts 
to  that  of  George  III.,  with  three  or  four  comfortable  under  gar- 
ments of  flannel,  were  in  vogue ;  while  the  waist,  "  small  by 
degrees,  and  beautifully  less,"  was  contracted  by  art,  so  as  to 
assume  a  shape,  leaving  scarcely  sufficient  room  for  the  ordinary 
functions  of  the  body.     Some  ladies  contented  themselves  with 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  185 

a  waist  the  size  of  a  pumpkin,  and  others  reduced  it  to  that  of  a 
melon,  while  the  true  Devonshire  standard  of  taste  and  beauty- 
is  said  to  have  been  exactly  "  an  orange  and  a  half  T  Within 
these  few  years  the  ladies  have  contrived  to  have  "  no  waist  at 
all ;"  but  to  produce  such  a  wonderful  effect,  they  resorted  to  more 
simple  means  that  that  of  straight-lacing.  Soon  after  the  duchess 
of  Devonshire's  reign  commenced,  however,  fashion  began  to 
make  her  rapid  approaches  towards  simplicity ;  and,  although 
nothing  is  so  changeable  as  a  lady's  head-dress,  yet  since  that 
period,  the  exuberances  of  ornament  have  been  gradually  cur- 
tailed, the  masses  of  flour,  of  bear's  grease,  and  of  mutton  fat, 
have  been  wholly  disused,  and  our  modern  tetes  have  been  made 
to  affect  all  the  simplicity  of  the  ancient  statues. 

At  the  general  election,  in  1780,  the  duchess  of  Devonshire 
very  strenuously  exerted  herself  in  favor  of  Mr.  Fox,  afterwards 
secretary  of  state.  The  story  of  the  butcher  selling  his  vote  for 
a  kiss  from  the  lovely  canvasser,  is  well  known.  Among  a  variety 
of  other  jeux  d^esprits  which  appeared  on  this  occasion,  was  the 
following  complimentary  epigram  : — 


"Array'd  in  matchless  beauty,  Devon's  fair 
In  Fox's  favor  takes  a  zealous  part: 

But  oh !  where'er  the  pilferer  comes — beware ! 
She  supplicates  a  vote,  and  steals  a  heart," 


A  period  of  more  than  nine  years  had  elapsed,  after  the  nup- 
tials of  the  duke  and  duchess  of  Devonshire,  before  the  birth 
of  their  first  child,  lady  Georgiana  Cavendish,  the  afterwards 
viscountess  Morpeth ;  after  an  interval  of  four  years  more,  lady 
Elizabeth  Henrietta  was  born;  and,  after  another  interval  of  four 
years,  May  21st.  1790,  her  grace  was  safely  delivered  of  a  son 
and  heir,  William  George  Cavendish,  marquis  of  Hartington, 
who  was  born  at  Autouil,  near  Paris. 

A  very  amiable  trait  in  the  maternal  character  of  the  late 
duchess,  is  supposed  to  have  been  alluded  to  in  the  following 
lines,  the  composition  of  one  of  the  most  elegant  poets  of  the 
present  age : — 

16* 


186  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

"  So  when  the  mother,  bending  o'er  his  charms, 
Clasps  her  fair  nursUng  in  delighted  arms, 
Throws  the  thin  kerchief  from  her  neck  of  snow, 
And  half  unveils  the  pearly  orbs  below  ; 
With  sparkling  eye  the  blameless  plunderer  owns 
Her  soft  embraces  and  endearing  tones, 
Seeks  the  salubrious  fount  with  opening  lips, 
Spreads  his  inquiring  hands,  and  smiles,  and  sips. 

"  Connubial  fair  !  whom  no  fond  transport  warms 
To  lull  your  infant  in  maternal  arms  ; 
Who,  blest  in  vain  with  tumid  bosoms,  hear 
His  tender  wadings  with  unfeeling  ear ; 
The  soothing  kiss  and  milky  rill  deny 
To  the  sweet  pouting  lip  and  glistening  eye ! 

"  Ah !  what  avails  the  cradle's  damask'd  roof, 
The  eider  bolster,  the  embroidered  woof! — 
Oft  hears  the  gilded  couch  unpitied  plains. 
And  many  a  tear  the  tassel'd  cushion  stains! 
No  voice  so  sweet  attunes  his  cares  to  rest. 
So  soft  no  pillow  as  his  mother's  breast." 

The  duchess  who  had  twice  visited  Paris,  was  now  for  some 
time  confined  by  her  maternal  duties,  to  Picadilly,  Chiswick, 
and  Chats  worth.  During  the  summer  of  1792,  however,  indu- 
ced to  undertake  the  journey  by  the  declining  health  of  two 
near  relations,  her  mother  lady  Spencer,  and  her  sister  iadj 
Duncannon,  countess  of  Besborough,  she  once  more  visited 
the  continent.  Lady  Elizabeth  Foster  was  also  of  the  party. 
Having  passed  through  France,  and  entered  the  Pays  de  Vaud, 
they  reached  Lausanne  in  the  month  of  August,  and  resided  for 
some  time  at  Le  Petit  Ouchy,  an  elegant  little  retreat  in  that 
neighborhood.  While  there,  the  celebrated  historian  Gibbon 
was  almost  daily  of  their  parties ;  and,  occasionally,  that  admired 
traveler  had  also  the  honor  of  entertaining  the  illustrious  tra- 
velers. On  his  revisiting  London  in  the  next  autumn,  he  re- 
newed his  acquaintance  in  Piccadilly,  where,  in  his  own  words, 
he  found  "  the  fine  ladies  making  flannel  waistcoats." 

Before  our  fair  travellers  quitted  the  retreat  of  Le  Petit 
Ouchy,  the  season  was  considerably  advanced ;  and,  as  Mount 
Cenis  had  become  impassable,  they  were  obliged  to  penetrate 
into  Italy  by  a  long  circuitous  route,  through  the  Tyrol. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  187 

After  passing  several  months  in  the  genial  climate  of  Italy, 
the  duchess,  having  most  amiably  performed  the  duties  of  a 
daughter  and  sister,  deemed  it  proper  to  fulfil  those  of  a  mother 
also.  Her  grace  accordingly  left  the  ladies,  Spencer,  and  Bes- 
borough,  who  intended  to  pass  the  winter  in  Naples,  at  the  baths 
of  Lucca ;  and,  bidding  farewell  to  the  fertile  plains  of  Lom- 
bardy,  prepared  to  scale  the  St.  Gothard  in  her  return  to  Swit- 
zerland. Having  embarked  on  the  Lago  Maggiore,  at  the  little 
town  of  Sesto,  where  the  confluence  of  the  river  Tessino  with 
the  lake  takes  place,  this  accomplished  woman  navigated  its 
glassy  surface,  and  beheld  its  shores  interspersed  with  villages 
and  a  rich  scenery,  which  served  to  amuse  the  eye  until  it  finally 
reposed  on  the  distant  Alps.  Her  grace  landed  at  Magadino, 
one  of  the  three  Cisalpine  Balliages  belonging  to  Switzerland, 
and,  with  her  suite,  ascended  the  tremendous  St.  Gothard  by  a 
road  which  nearly  follows  the  course  of  the  Tessino.  At  the 
top  of  the  mountain  they  were  entertained  by  the  Capuchin 
monks,  after  which  they  descended  into  the  valley  of  Ursera, 
crossing  the  Devil's  Bridge,  below  which  they  beheld  the  Reuss, 
swelled  by  this  time  to  a  torrent.  On  re-entering  Switzerland, 
the  spires  of  Altorf  recalled  the  memory  of  that  celebrated  and 
bloodless  revolution,  which  gave  liberty  to  a  nation ;  while  the 
chapel  of  William  Tell  excited,  in  the  patriotic  bosom  of  her 
grace,  the  most  delightful  sensations.  These  sensations  are  ad- 
mirably depicted,  in  the  following  beautiful  stanzas,  extracted 
from  her  celebrated  poem,  entitled  "  The  passage  of  the  Moun- 
tain of  St.  Gothard."  After  describing  the  scenes  already  past, 
the  fair  poet  proceeds : — 


"  But  though  no  more  amidst  those  scenes  I  roam, 
My  fancy  long  its  image  shall  retain — 

The  flock  returning  to  its  welcome  home — 
And  the  wild  carol  of  the  cow-herd's  strain. 

"Lucerna's  lake  its  glassy  surface  shows, 
Whilst  nature's  varied  beauties  deck  its  side  : 

Here  rocks  and  woods  its  narrow  waves  enclose 
And  there  its  spreading  bosom  opens  wide. 


188  FE3IALE    BIOGRAPHY, 

"  And  hail  the  chapel  I  hail  the  platform  wild ! 

Where  Tell  directed  the  avenging  dart ; 
With  well-strung  arm,  at  first  preserved  his  child, 

Then  winged  the  arrow  to  the  tyrant's  heart. 

"Across  the  lake,  and  deep  embower'd  in  wood, 

Behold  another  hallow'd  chapel  stands, 
Where  three  Swiss  heroes  lawless  force  withstood. 

And  stamp'd  the  freedom  of  their  native  land* 

"  Their  liberty  requir'd  no  rites  uncouth. 
No  blood  demanded,  and  no  slaves  enchain'd ; 

Her  rule  was  gentle,  and  her  voice  was  truth, 
By  social  order  formed,  by  law  restrain'd, 

"  We  quit  the  lake— and  cultivation's  toil. 
With  nature's  charms  combin'd,  adorn  the  way; 

And  well-earn'd  wealth  improves  the  ready  soil, 
And  simple  manners  still  maintain  their  sway. 

*'  Farewell  Helvetia — from  whose  lofty  breast 
Proud  Alps  arise,  and  copious  rivers  flow ;  * 

Where,  source  of  streams,  eternal  glaciers  rest, 
And  peaceful  science  gilds  the  plains  below. 

"  Oft  on  thy  rocks  the  wond'ring  eye  shall  gaze, 

Thy  vallies  oft  the  raptur'd  bosom  seek — 
There,  nature's  hand  her  boldest  work  displays 

Here,  bliss  domestic  beams  on  every  cheek. 

"  Hope  of  my  life  !  dear  children  of  my  heart ! 

That  anxious  heart,  to  each  fond  feehng  true. 
To  you  still  pants,  each  pleasure  to  impart, 

And  more — O  transport ! — reach  its  home  and  you." 

This  exquisite  poem  has  been  translated  into  French,  by  the 
celebrated  Abbe  de  Lille,  the  best  versifier  who  ever  wrote  in 
that  language. 

The  duchess  was  long  a  pattern  of  conjugal  and  maternal 
virtue ;  and,  during  the  late  war,  she  endeared  herself  to  the 
country,  by  the  anxious  interest  which  she  took  in  the  health  of 
our  protecting  armies.  We  have  already  mentioned,  that  the 
celebrated  Gibbon  found  her  in  the  humble  but  meritorious  em- 
ployment of  making  flannel  waistcoats  for  the  soldiers.  In  this 
employment  she  long  persevered ;  and,  by  her  example,  contri- 
buted much  to  the  comfort  of  our  military  heroes. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  189 

Of  late  years,  her  grace  did  not  appear  so  much  in  the  gay- 
world  as  formerly ;  yet  she  sometimes  enlivened  the  higher 
circles  with  her  presence,  and,  in  1801,  when  the  Pic  Nic  society 
was  formed,  she  stood  forth  at  the  head  of  that  institution. 

In  the  late  war,  the  duchess  had  the  honor  of  being  reckoned 
among  the  British  lady  patronesses  of  the  volunteers.  In  the 
month  of  October,  1803,  she  presented  the  colors  to  the  St. 
Mary-le-bonne  corps,  commanded  by  her  relation.  Lord  Dun- 
cannon.  Dressed,  en  militaire,  in  a  purple  velvet  bonnet,  with  a 
gold  star  button,  and  a  plume  of  ostrich  feathers,  she  went  in 
procession,  accompanied  by  a  suite  of  noble  relatives,  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  guard  of  honor  to  Lord's  Cricket  Ground,  Mary- 
le-bonne,  where  the  ceremony  Avas  performed. 

Her  grace,  to  whom  a  lengthened  number  of  days  was  denied, 
departed  this  life  on  the  morning  of  Sunday,  March  the  30th, 
1806,  in  the  forty-ninth  year  of  her  age.  Her  disorder,  which 
terminated  so  fatally,  is  understood  to  have  been  an  abscess  of 
the  liver,  the  first  attack  of  which  was  perceived  about  three 
months  before  her  death,  while  she  sat  at  the  table  of  the  mar- 
quis of  Stafford.  From  that  period,  its  feverish  progress  so  in- 
creased, as  eventually  to  resist  all  the  efforts  of  the  first  medical 
skill.  Her  grace's  remains  were  taken,  in  funeral  procession, 
from  Picadilly,  on  the  Sunday  after  her  death;  and,  on  the 
Wednesday  following,  they  were  interred,  with  great  pomp  and 
solemnity,  in  the  family  vault,  in  St.  Stephen's  church,  Derby. 
The  hearse  was  met  three  miles  from  Derby,  by  the  whole  of 
the  country  nobility,  and  the  duke's  tenantry  residing  there,  who 
conducted  the  remains  to  the  place  of  interment. 

The  duchess  of  Devonshire  possessed  a  highly  cultivated 
taste  for  poetry  and  the  fine  arts ;  was  a  liberal  encourager  of 
them  in  others ;  and,  above  all,  she  had  the  exalted  merit,  of 
never  failing  to  advocate  and  relieve  the  cause  of  misfortune. 

"  Her  kindly  melting  heart, 
To  every  want  and  every  woe, 
To  guilt  itself,  when  in  distress, 
The  balm  of  pity  would  impart, 
And  all  relief  that  bounty  could  bestow ! 
E'en  for  the  kid  or  lamb,  that  poured  its  life 


190  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Beneath  the  bloody  knife. 

Her  gentle  tears  would  fall ; 

Tears,  from  sweet  virtue's  source,  benevolent  to  all !" 

In  the  continuing  words  of  lord  Lyttleton,  she  was — 

"  Not  only  good  and  kind, 
But  strong  and  elevated  was  her  mind ; 

A  spirit  that  with  noble  pride 

Could  look  superior  down 

On  fortune's  smile  or  frown ; 
That  could,  without  regret  or  pain, 
To  virtue's  lowest  duty  sacrifice 
Or  interest  or  ambition's  highest  prize; 
That,  injured  or  offended,  never  tried 
Its  dignity,  by  vengeance,  to  maintain, 
But  by  magnanimous  disdain. 
A  wit  that,  temperately  bright, 
With  inoffensive  light 
All  pleasing  shone;  nor  ever  past 
The  decent  bounds  that  wisdom's  sober  hand, 
And  sweet  benevolence's  mild  command, 
And  bashful  modesty,  before  it  cast. 
A  prudence  undeceiving,  undeceiv'd. 
That  nor  too  little  nor  too  much  believ'd  ; 
That  scorn' d  unjust  suspicion's  coward  fear, 
And,  without  weakness,  knew  to  be  sincere. 
Such  Lucy  was,  when,  in  her  fairest  days, 
Amidst  th'  acclaim  of  universal  praise, 
In  life's  and  glory's  freshest  bloom, 
Death  came  remorseless  on,  and  sunk  her  to  the  tomb." 


Martha  Derby,  was  the  daughter  of  Doctor  Coiiin,  of 
Portland,  in  the  state  of  Maine,  and  was  born  about  1783.  She 
received  a  good  education  at  the  schools  in  her  own  native 
town,  and  probably  closed  it  with  a  metropolitan  finish.  At  the 
age  of  .eaving  school,  she  was  considered  the  beauty  of  New 
England.  There  was  style  without  hauteur  in  her  manners, 
and  the  features  of  her  face  were,  to  almost  every  one,  faultless. 
The  sweetness  of  her  disposition  had  kept  her  female  admirers 
from  being  envious  of  her  charms,  and  she  was  so  prudent  in 
lavishing  her  smiles,  that  no  one  could  draw  an  inference  of 
partiality.  At  this  age  she  was  addressed  by  Mr.  Richard 
Derby,  a  young  gentleman  of  good  personal  appearance'"  and 
splendid  fortune,  with  the  air  and  manners  of  a  man  of  fashion, 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  191 

and  on  whose  morals  there  was  no  stain ;  and  she  was  led  to 
the  altar  by  him,  with  the  consent  of  her  friends.     With  him 
she  took  the  tour  of  Europe,  and  was  in  all  places  admired  for 
her  elegance,  grace,  and  beauty.     She  received  marks  of  atten- 
tion in  England,  that  no  American  woman  before  her  ever  did. 
In  France,  when  Napoleon  Bonaparte  was  rising  into  the  gaze 
of  the  world,  he  saw  and  admired  Mrs.  Derby.     In  the  tour  of 
the  continent,  she  was  every  where  received  with  extraordinary 
honors,  and  even  in  the  "  eternal  city,"  they  compared  her  form 
and  face  to  the  productions  of  the  chisels  of  ancient  masters. 
Painters  and  sculptors  flocked  to  get  her  semblance   or  bust, 
but  she  would  not  consent  to  sit  for  the  gaze  of  any  artist,  how- 
ever eminent.      Half   the  European  world  then,  for  this  was 
more  than  thirty  years  smce,  expected  to  see  an  aboriginal  in 
an  American  woman,  and  were  astonished  Avhen  they  saw  as 
much  grace  and  beauty,  as  they  had  ever  imagined  combined 
in  one    person.       Mrs.    Derby    returned  to  her    native    land, 
improved  in  person,  mind,  and  manners,  and   with  no  small 
knowledge  of  the  true  philosophy  of  dress.     She  was  still  a  favo- 
rite at  home,  and  if  she  did  not  aspire  to  give  a  tone  to  fashion, 
she  most  certainly  influenced  the  public  taste  more  than  any 
other  woman.     She  had  no  children,  and   Mr.  and  Mrs.  Derby 
spent  a  season  at  the  south  or  north,  or  in  Europe,  as  pleased 
their    taste,   or  inclination.      She  was  truly  an  accomplished 
woman,  but  every  accomplishment  she  possessed  was  so  well 
commingled  with  others,  as  to  never  sufler  any  of  them  to  appear 
prominent.     Foreigners,  if  there  was  any  difference  among  her 
admirers,  were  more  charmed  Avith  Mrs.  Derby  than  her  own 
countrymen.     They  thought  her  the  finest  woman  they  had 
ever  seen  on  this  side  the  water ;  and  if  they  were  never  led 
into  a  greater  error  than  in  this  case,  they  might  have  been 
more  readily  pardoned  than  they  now  can  be.  for  other  opin- 
ions which  they  have  as  freely  promulgated,  of  this  country 
and  the  people.     A  writer  in  the  Boston  Monthly  Magazine, 
in  1826,  in  a  playful  article,  entitled  "Figures  in  Dominos," 
alludes  in  the  following  manner  to  Mrs.  Derby,  while  she  yet 
had  health  and  beauty.     She  was  then,  perhaps  it  might  be 


192  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

said,  in  the  wane  of  her  beauty ;  bordering  on  forty,  a  period  of 
life  when  time  will  not  be  cheated  of  those  marks,  which  he 
sets  on  all  things,  and  on  none  with  more  distinctness  and 
determination,  than  on  the  human  face  divine,  the  more  beau- 
tiful the  greater  his  ravages.  This  writer,  whose  only  object 
was  to  shadow  forth  the  peculiarities  of  some  of  the  principal 
personages  in  Boston,  imagines  the  poet  Goethe  in  a  saloon  of 
his  patron,  the  emperor  of  Germany,  giving  an  account  to  an 
English  friend,  of  the  characters  passing  in  masquerade  before 
them.  General  Roxburghen  is  in  conversation  with  lady  Ophe- 
lia Guildenstern,  (Mrs.  Derby,)  the  poet  describes  her  with  as 
much  accuracy  as  enthusiasm.  "  She  was  celebrated  as  the 
first  belle  of  our  country  twenty  years  ago.  I  then  wrote  son- 
nets '  to  the  heaven  of  her  eyes  ;'  and  those  eyes  are  as  bright 
and  beautiful  now  as  then.  She  was  thrown  a  child  into  the 
whirl  of  fashionable  life,  but  she  was  always  so  circumspect, 
discriminating,  and  modest,  that  the  enchantments  of  the  Circean 
cup,  so  often  swallowed  to  the  dregs  by  the  fashionable  world, 
never  poisoned  her  mind.  If  she  ever  put  it  to  her  lips,  the 
virtues  of  her  heart  and  the  strength  of  her  understanding  were 
the  antidote  to  the  bane.  After  passing  through  half  the  splen- 
did circles  of  the  globe,  on  this  continent  and  in  the  new  world, 
and  the  admiration  of  all,  she  is  still  as  gentle,  modest,  bland,  and 
conciliatory  as  when  she  made  one  of  the  laughing  loves  of  the 
nursery.  Year  after  year  I  have  expected  to  see  marks  of  time 
upon  her  lovely  face,  remembering  how  fugitive  all  poets  have 
made  the  beauty  of  the  objects  of  their  admiration.  Anacreon 
calls  these  beauties  '  the  rose  leaves  of  spring  blown  away  on 
the  summer  gale ;'  and  one  of  your  English  poets  has  sung — 

'  Flowers  anew  returning  seasons  bring, 
'  But  faded  beauty  has  no  second  spring.' 

Still,  however,  she  is  yet  as  lovely  as  ever ;  the  style  of  her 
beauty  is  changed,  but  the  effect  is  not  destroyed.  The  sylph- 
like grace  of  that  period  of  life,  when  she  was  culling  the  violet 
and  chasing  the  golden- winged  insect  from  one  bed  of  flowers 
to  another,  is  gone,  but  that  rich  maturity  of  charms,  when  all 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  193 

that  is  desirable  in  person  and  dignified  in  thought  and  man- 
ners, are  in  full  perfection.  These  are  the  mature  charms, 
which,  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  won  the  mighty  Roman's 
heart,  and  made  him  throw  away  the  world  for  love.  Had  I 
been  Paris,  and  set  in  judgment  on  Ida,  Juno  should  have  had 
the  apple." 

Mrs.  Derby  was  for  several  years  a  valitudinarian,  but  gave  up 
society  only  a  few  months  before  her  death.  One  bred  among  the 
gaities  of  life,  leaves  them  with  great  reluctance,  but  she  moved 
in  the  crowd  that  she  might  not  alarm  her  friends  in  regard  to 
her  health  ;  she  felt  that  with  her  "  the  silver  cords  of  life  would 
soon  be  loosed,  and  the  golden  bowl  be  broken,"  yet  she  wish- 
ed not  to  disturb  the  enjoyment  of  others.  Society  had  been  her 
element,  and  had  become  natural  to  her,  yet  when  she  felt  the 
sands  of  life  ebbing,  she  breathed  no  sigh  that  she  was  called 
to  depart  so  soon,  but  thankful  for  the  share  she  had  had  of  life, 
was  ready  to  relinquish  it,  when  Heaven  should  so  decree. 


Dorcas.  Seven  of  the  most  celebrated  cities  of  antiquity, 
Smyrna,  Rhodes,  Colophon,  Salamis,  Chios,  Argos,  and  Athens, 
are  said  to  have  disputed  the  glory  of  having  given  birth  to 
Homer  ;  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  places  and  families  acquire 
an  importance  from  their  connexion  with  names  which  appear 
conspicuous  on  the  page  of  history,  and  have  been  praised  by 
the  united  voices  of  successive  generations.  We  cannot  hear, 
without  an  instinctive  glow,  of  the  cities  of  Rome,  Athens,  Sparta, 
Syracuse,  and  others  which  respectively  produced  a  Cassar,  a 
Demosthenes,  a  Lycurgus,  and  an  Archimedes ;  of  the  islands 
of  Samos  and  -^gina,  whence  emanated  the  resplendent  genius 
of  a  Pythagoras  and  a  Plato ;  of  the  villages  of  Alopece  and  An- 
des, immortalized  as  having  produced  a  Socrates  and  a  Virgil. 

But  let  not  the  enchanting  annals  of  Roman  literature  or 

Grecian  wisdom  detach  our  minds  from  the  nobler  records  of 

inspiration,  or  diminish  the  conviction  which  religion  must  ever 

inspire,  that  the  birthplace  of  benevolence  and  piety  is  more 

illustrious  than  the  birthplace  of  genius  and  philosophy.     On 

this  principle  we  look  with  admiration  upon  the  town  of  Joppa, 

17 


194  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

which,  if  it  cannot  boast  a  prodigy  of  valor,  talent,  or  learning, 
is  nevertheless  conspicuous  as  the  residence  of  one  '*  of  whom 
the  world  was  not  worthy."  She  was  not,  indeed,  rich  in 
wealth,  but  in  good  works.  She  was  not  a  conqueror  of  nations 
or  a  distributor  of  crowns,  but  a  giver  of  alms.  She  had  no 
name  on  earth  beyond  the  limits  of  a  small  Christian  church, 
but  her  record  was  on  high,  and  her  memorial  has  not  perished 
with  her. 

Joppa  was  the  nearest  seaport  to  Jerusalem  on  the  Mediterra- 
nean. It  was  situated  in  the  tribe  of  Dan,  in  a  fine  plain,  and 
has  acquired  the  modern  name  of  Jaffa.  This  place  is  frequent- 
ly mentioned  in  scripture.  The  materials  for  the  construction 
of  Solomon's  temple  were  sent  thither  in  floats,  by  Hiram  the 
king  of  Tyre,  whence  they  were  easily  conveyed  by  land  to 
Jerusalem.  Jonah,  in  his  flight  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord, 
embarked  at  this  port,  and  gave  occasion  to  the  mjrthological 
fable  of  Andromeda.  Here  the  apostle  Peter  enjoyed  that 
remarkable  vision  in  which  he  saw  heaven  opened,  and  a  great 
sheet  descending  to  the  earth,  which  seemed  to  contain  every 
variety  of  beasts,  and  creeping  things,  and  fowls  of  the  air ;  inti- 
mating to  him  the  abolition  of  the  Mosaic  law,  and  the  removal 
of  those  distinctions  which  had  so  long  separated  the  Jews  and 
the  Gentiles.  It  is  probable  Philip  preached  the  gospel  here  in 
his  progress  through  various  cities  to  Cesarea ;  but  the  history 
of  Dorcas,  or,  as  she  was  originally  called  in  the  Syriac  dialect, 
Tabitha,  has  given  it  peculiar  prominence  in  the  sacred  page. 

The  memorials  of  this  excellent  woman  is  short,  but  replete 
with  instruction.  Her  character  is  sketched  at  a  stroke,  and  by 
the  introduction  of  an  incident  as  full  of  significance  and  inter- 
est as  can  well  be  imagined.  Dropping  those  minute  details 
and  accidental  circumstances  which  are  not  necessary  to  cha- 
racter, and  which  the  New  Testament  so  seldom  mentions,  the 
most  instructive  part  of  her  story  is  preserved  and  set  in  the 
most  brilliant  point  of  light. 

She  is  simply  announced  in  the  first  place,  as  "  a  certain  dis- 
ciple," or  one  that  embraced  the  faith  of  Christ,  and  professed  it 
by  baptism  and  a  public  union  with  his  church.    Whatever  might 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  195 

be  her  situation  in  other  respects,  was  of  little  consequence ;  this 
was  her  best,  her  most  substanial  distinction.  It  invested  her 
with  a  real  glory,  which  however  overlooked  by  those  who  are 
chiefly  attracted  by  exterior  splendor,  surpassed  every  vain  and 
glittering  honor  of  the  world.  It  raised  her  to  the  dignity  of  a 
name  in  the  volume  of  inspiration,  and  the  unfading  distinction 
of  a  place  in  the  annals  of  eternity. 

How  poor  and  perishable  is  human  fame ;  and  yet  with  what 
eagerness  it  is  universally  sought!  What  is  it  but  a  bubble, 
excited  by  some  accidental  cause,  to  sparkle  for  a  moment  on  the 
stream  of  passing  ages,  and  then  to  disappear  forever !  And  yet 
the  love  of  fame  has  been  called,  and  perhaps  with  propriety,  the 
ruling  passion ;  for  so  much  does  it  blend  itself  with  human  mo- 
tives, that  there  are  comparatively  few  of  our  actions,  at  least 
such  as  are  visible  to  the  public  eye,  which  may  not  be  traced 
to  this  feeling,  or  which  do  not  receive  a  tone  from  its  influence. 

The  inspired  testimony  is  as  follows :  "  This  woman  was  full 
of  good  works  and  alms-deeds,  which  she  did."  Amongst  other 
acts  of  beneficence,  she  was  accustomed  to  make  "coats  and 
garments"  for  "the  widows."  Her  own  circumstances  are  not 
specified.  If  she  were  poor^  as  the  mass  of  Christian  converts 
in  the  apostolic  times  appears  to  have  been,  her  readiness  in  fur- 
nishing these  was  admirable  indeed.  As  Paul  testified  of  the 
Macedonian  believers,  she  contributed  to  the  utmost,  yea,  and 
beyond  her  power :  nor  are  these  solitary  instances  of  persons 
willingly  impoverishing  themselves  in  obedience  to  the  fine  im- 
pulse of  a  pious  sympathy.  While  others  have  calculated 
they  have  acted,  incapable  of  a  cold  arithmetic  and  a  meeisured 
benevolence.  If  Dorcas  were  rich,  she  is  perhaps  entitled  to  a 
still  higher  commendation.  So  many  are  the  obstructions  which 
"  great  possessions"  cast  in  the  way  of  charity,  so  many  tempta- 
tions to  a  lavish  expenditure,  beset  the  opulent,  and  to  support 
this,  on  the  other  hand,  to  a  parsimonious,  saving  habit ;  so  easy 
is  it  to  frame  excuses,  and  by  trifling  precautions  to  escape  impor- 
tunity, or  at  once  to  silence  it ;  that  it  may  well  excite  both  won- 
der and  delight  to  find  charity  associated  with  splendor.  It  is 
surprising,  however,  and  no  less  deplorable  than  surprising,  that 


196  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

persons  of  this  class  will  not  consider  for  a  moment,  how  easily, 
with  how  few  sacrifices  even  of  time  or  money,  they  might  be 
extensively  useful.  A  single  drop  of  supply  from  their  replen- 
ished cup  of  worldly  prosperity,  would  often  make  •'  the  widow's 
heart  to  sing  for  joy,"  and  prove  a  healing  cordial  to  the  suf- 
ferings of  perishing  humanity.  A  slight  taxation  upon  even 
acknowledged  superfluity,  would,  in  some  cases,  produce  an 
ample  revenue  for  many  indigent  families,  although  religion 
claims,  on  their  behalf,  more  than  a  scanty  and  unwilling  pit- 
tance; for  "he  which  soweth  sparingly,  shall  reap  also  sparingly  J 
and  he  which  soweth  bountifully,  shall  reap  also  bountifully. 
Every  man,  according  as  he  purposeth  in  his  heart,  so  let  him 
give ;  not  grudgingly  or  of  necessity,  for  God  loveth  a  cheerful 
giver. 

LucRETiA  Maria  Davidson.  Nature,  that  generally  pro- 
duces every  thing  in  classes,  now  and  then  transcends  her 
ordinary  laws  and  brings  forth  a  prodigy;  either  some  flower  of 
exquisite  beauty,  or  an  animal  of  fine  proportions,  that  place  him 
above  his  species ;  and  sometimes  in  the  human  family  we  find 
lovely  proportions  of  form  united  to  mental  superiority.  These 
excite  the  attention  of  the  philosophical  few,  and  the  admiration 
of  all.  These  prodigies  of  mind  and  person  are  often  men- 
tioned as  a  tale,  and  then  pass  away,  and  those  who  come  after, 
set  the  whole  down  as  a  creature  of  the  imagination.  The  bio- 
graphical sketches  of  Heinecken,  of  the  admirable  Crichton,  as 
he  was  called,  are  hardly  ranked  among  matters  of  fact ;  nor 
would  one  half  the  world  have  believed  in  the  extraordinary 
genius  of  Chatterton,  or  Henry  Kirke  White,  had  not  their  wri- 
tings been  preserved  to  prove  that  all  that  was  said  of  them  was 
just  and  true  to  the  letter.  Sometimes  these  minute  details  of 
extraordinary  precocity  grew  out  of  mistaken  pride,  or  parental 
blindness,  and  not  unfreqently  from  the  grief  at  the  loss  of  pro- 
mising children.  It  frequently  happens  that  those  who,  by  con- 
stitution,  are  destined  to  an  early  grave,  are  more  solemn  and 
thoughtful  than  other  children,  and  mixing  reflection  with  pre- 
sentiment, make  remarks  that  are  remembered  by  the  fond 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  197 

mother  after  they  sleep  in  the  grave.  And  who  will  deny  that 
sometimes  divine  influence  are  shed  upon  those  who  die  prema- 
turely. In  nature,  the  violet  crushed  in  its  infancy,  has  a  sweeter 
perfume  than  those  that  stand  the  long  gaze  of  summer  suns. 

Among  those  authenticated  instances  of  precocity,  in  which 
were  displayed  intellect,  refinement,  delicacy,  affection,  and 
purity.  Miss  Davidson  held  the  first  rank.  This  extraordi- 
nary young  lady  was  born,  September  27th,  1808,  at  Platts- 
burgh,  on  Lake  Champlain.  She  was  the  daughter  of  Oliver 
Davidson,  and  Margaretta  his  wife.  Her  father  was  a  physician 
in  that  place,  and,  like  many  professional  men,  found  himself 
in  straitened  circumstances  as  his  young  family  increased. 
Lucretia  had  not  any  extraordinary  advantages  of  education, 
and  in  fact,  but  little  more  instruction  than  her  mother  could 
spare  to  give  her  in  her  hours  of  relaxation  from  domestic  affairs, 
but  the  little  girl  was  caught  writing  poetry  at  a  very  early  age ; 
but  in  her  excitement  at  the  discovery,  she  burnt  her  productions. 
The  earliest  piece  of  poetry  from  her  pen,  which  is  now  to  be 
found,  was  written  when  she  was  only  nine  years  old.  It  is  an 
epitaph  on  a  robin,  and  is  very  pretty.  The  subject  is  a  com- 
mon one  for  a  young  rhymer.  The  innocence  and  beauty  of 
the  bird,  so  often  domesticated,  united  to  the  sentimental  story  of 
the  orphan  children,  exposed  by  an  unfeeling  uncle,  to  starvation 
in  the  woods,  in  which  little  robin  red-breast  makes  a  conspic- 
uous  figure  in  the  sepulchral  rites,  and  funeral  dirge.  This  epic 
of  the  nursery  is  often  said  or  sung  to  the  child  in  the  cradle, 
and  as  often  fills  the  infant  eye  with  the  sympathetic  tear. 
Most  of  us  have  had  robins  in  our  childhood,  and  have  lost 
them ;  and  can  easily  judge  of  the  natural  sentiments  of  this 
little  effusion. 

The  feelings  of  Miss  Davidson  were  as  exquisite  as  her  un- 
derstanding was  precocious,  for  on  receiving  a  present  as  a  mark 
of  esteem  from  a  friend,  in  order  that  she  might  purchase  books 
to  aid  her  in  her  education,  she  insisted  that  her  mother  should 
take  it,  as  it  might  be  wanted  in  the  family.  This  of  course 
was  refused ;  and  at  one  time,  understanding  that  her  neighbors 

and  friends  thought  that  she  should  work  more  and  read  less, 

17* 


198  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

she  gave  up  her  books  altogether.  This  mimosa  shrunk  in 
eveiy  leaf,  but  by  the  advice  of  a  judicious  mother,  she  resumed 
her  studies  by  degrees,  and  mingled  household  cares  with  her 
literary  pursuits.  She  soon  acquainted  herself  with  the  best  of 
the  English  poets  and  essayists,  and  at  once  became  mistress  of 
their  contents. 

In  1 824,  a  patron  and  friend  of  the  family  insisted  that  she 
should  be  sent  to  Mrs.  Willard's  school  at  Troy,  and  her  parents 
consented.  She  was  an  obedient,  excellent  scholar,  in  all  the 
regular  studies ;  but  such  a  mind  as  hers  could  not  be  confined 
to  the  routine  of  school  lessons.  She  read  nature  as  well  as 
books,  and  it  was  seen  that  her  body  could  not  bear  the  intense 
activity  of  her  mind.  She  felt  then  all  the  agitations  and  inspi- 
rations which  the  bard  of  Avon  so  exquisitely  describes,  when 
he  presents  the  poet  to  our  view. 

So  delicate  a  mind  as  Miss  Davidson  possessed,  should  have 
been  diverted  from  the  emulation  which  arises  in  public  schools, 
and  which  is  necessary  to  bring  forth  common  children,  even  of 
good  capacities,  and  have  received  her  education  in  private. 
She  left  Mrs.  Willard's  school  and  returned  to  Plattsburgh,  but 
her  desire  for  knowledge  was  so  ardent,  that  she  could  not  be 
contented  at  home,  and  was  soon  afterwards  sent  to  Albany,  and 
put  under  the  care  of  Miss  Gilbert,  but  she  was  soon  ill  again. 
A  consumption  was  known  by  her  friends  to  be  hurrying  her 
to  the  grave ;  but  for  a  while,  and  even  until  almost  the  last,  she 
entertained  hopes  of  recovery;  and  had  her  books,  those  she 
was  most  fond  of,  in  sight,  that  she  might  indulge  in  the  contem- 
plation of  the  time  when  she  should  be  allowed  to  open  them 
again,  to  cull  from  the  pages  the  sweets  of  knowledge ;  but  alas ! 
this  was  never  for  her  to  do.  She  lingered  until  the  twenty- 
seventh  of  August,  1825,  and  then  sunk  to  rest.  Her  memory 
was  fine,  and  her  judgment  and  taste  far  above  those  of  her  age. 
Her  affections  were  all  pure  and  her  sentiments  lofty.  She  was 
beautiful  in  person,  and  this  often  throws  a  charm  over  senti- 
ment. Complexion,  feature,  expression,  and  intellectual  phisiog- 
nomy,  such  as  she  possessed,  added,  no  doubt,  to  the  admiration 
her  friends  felt  for  her  genius ;  but  abating  much  for  all  this,  the 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  199 

coldest  and  severest  critic,  cannot  refrain  applying  the  epithet, 
angelic  to  her  character  and  compositions.  Among  her  wri- 
tings, some  are  most  pleased  with  "  Amir  Khan,"  but  we  think 
some  other  writings  from  her  pen  show  as  much  genius  as  that 
poem.  The  critics  across  the  water,  who  seldom  arrive  at  a 
kind  and  just  feeling  of  us  and  of  our  wonders,  spoke  of  her 
talents  with  enthusiastic  praises.  It  is  understood  that  a  second 
edition  of  her  works,  with  the  addition  of  several  unpublished 
pieces  and  her  letters,  are  soon  to  be  given  to  the  public.  We 
should  love  to  see  all  the  productions  of  so  gifted  a  mind  and  so 
pure  a  heart.  We  turn  to  them  again  and  again  unwilling  to 
give  up  the  look,  and  hang  enamored  over  such  proofs  of  celes- 
tial light  as  her  pages  contain. 

THE  FAMILY  TIME-PIECE. 

[written  in  her  fifteenth  year.] 

Friend  of  my  heart,  thou  monitor  of  youth, 
Well  do  I  love  thee,  dearest  child  of  truth ; 
Though  many  a  lonely  hour  thy  whisperings  low 
Have  made  sad  chorus  to  the  notes  of  wo. 

Or  'mid  the  happy  hour  which  joyful  flew. 
Thou  still  wert  faithful,  still  unchanged,  still  true ; 
Or  when  the  task  employed  my  infant  mind, 
Oft  have  I  sighed  to  see  the  lag  behind ; 

And  watched  thy  finger  with  a  youthful  glee, 
When  it  had  pointed  silently,  "  be  free ;" 
Thou  wert  my  mentor  through  each  passing  year ; 
'Mid  pain  or  pleasure,  thou  wert  ever  near. 

And  when  the  wiiigs  of  time  unnoticed  flew, 
I  paused,  reflected,  wondered,  turned  to  you; 
Paused  in  my  heedless  round,  to  mark  thy  hand, 
Pointing  to  conscience,  like  a  magic  wand; 

To  watch  thee  stealing  on  thy  silent  way. 

Silent,  but  sure,  time's  pinions  cannot  stay; 

How  many  hours  of  pleasure,  hours  of  pain. 

When  smiles  were  brightning  round  affliction's  train  1 

How  many  hours  of  poverty  and  wo. 
Which  taught  cold  drops  of  agony  to  flow  ? 


200  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

How  many  hours  of  war,  of  blood,  of  death, 
Which  added  laurels  to  the  victor's  wreath? 

How  many  deep-drawn  sighs  thy  hand  hath  told 

And  dimmed  the  smile,  and  dried  the  tear  which  rolled? 

When  the  loud  cannon  spoke  the  voice  of  war. 

And  death  and  bloodshed  whirled  their  crimson  car? 

When  the  proud  banner,  waving  in  the  breeze, 
Had  welcomed  war,  and  bade  adieu  to  peace, 
Thy  faithful  finger  traced  the  wing  of  time, 
Pointed  to  earth,  and  then  to  heaven  sublime. 

Unmoved  amid  the  carnage  of  the  world. 
When  thousands  to  eternity  were  hurled, 
Thy  head  was  reared  aloft,  truth's  chosen  child, 
Beaming  serenely  through  the  troubled  wild. 

Friend  of  my  youth,  e're  from  its  mould' ring  clay 
My  joyful  spirit  wings  to  heaven  its  way ; 
O  mayst  thou  watch  beside  my  aching  head. 
And  tell  how  fast  time  flits  with  feathered  tread. 

TO  A  STAR. 

[written  in  her  fifteenth  year.] 

Thou  brightly-glittering  star  of  even, 
Thou  gem  upon  the  brow  of  Heaven, 
Oh !  were  this  fluttering  spirit  free. 
How  quick  'twould  spread  its  wings  to  thee. 

How  calmly,  brightly  dost  thou  shine. 
Like  the  pure  lamp  in  Virtue's  shrine ! 
Sure  the  fair  world  which  thou  mayst  boast 
Was  never  ransomed,  never  lost. 

There,  beings  pure  as  Heaven's  own  air, 
Their  hopes,  their  joys  together  share ; 
While  hovering  angels  touch  the  string, 
And  seraphs  spread  the  sheltering  wing. 

There  cloudless  days  and  brilliant  nights, 
Illumed  by  Heaven's  refulgent  lights; 
There  seasons,  years,  unnoticed  roll, 
And  unregretted  by  the  soul. 

Thou  little  sparkling  star  of  even, 
Thou  gem  upon  an  azure  Heaven, 
How  swiftly  will  I  soar  to  thee. 
When  this  imprisoned  soul  is  free. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  201 

Frances  D'Arblay,  the  subject  of  this  biographical  sketch, 
was  the  daughter  of  Doctor  Burney,  the  eminent  professor  and 
historian  of  music.  This  gentleman  was  not  more  admired  on 
account  of  his  abilities  in  a  science,  which  universally  engages 
enthusiastic  attention,  than  he  was  esteemed  a  faithful  friend,  a 
prudent  counsellor,  and  an  amiable  companion. 

All  the  children  of  this  worthy  and  accomplished  man,  have 
reflected  honor  on  their  parent ;  but  the  lady  whose  intellectual 
plan  of  life  we  are  now  going  to  unfold,  was  justly  the  most 
admired;  and  if  the  compliment  be  thought  very  high,  which 
tells  a  woman  that  she  is  *'  faii'fest  where  all  his  fair,"  the  decla- 
ration of  the  merit  of  Miss  Burney  is  not  faint  praise,  which 
names  her  "  most  admirable,  where  all  have  been  admired." 

Doctor  Burney  sought,  by  every  inducement  in  his  power,  to 
lead  all  his  children  towards  those  studious  pursuits  which 
were  consonant  with  the  strain  of  his  own  mind  ;  but  he  found 
that  no  stress  was  necessary  to  turn  the  attention  and  labors  of 
his  daughter  Frances  into  that  track  :  "  Song  was  her  favorite, 
and  her  first  desire;"  and  while  the  employment  of  her  life  was 
a  search  after  wisdom, 

"  Whate'er  of  beautiful,  or  new, 


Sublime,  or  dreadful,  in  earth,  sea,  or  sky. 
By  chance,  or  search,  was  offered  to  her  view, 

She  scann'd  with  curious,  and  romantic  eye, 
Whate'er  of  lore,  tradition  could  supply 

From  Gothic  tale,  or  song,  or  fable  old, 
Rous' d  her,  still  keen,  to  listen  and  to  pry. 

Her  mfancy,  though  adorned  with  the  usual  ornaments  of  female 
education,  a  dexterity  in  managing  the  needle  and  the  pencil, 
was  devoted,  like  that  of  the  young  Edwin  of  Beattie,  to  the 
acquirements  of  the  nobler  decorations  of  science  and  philosophy. 
As  the  doctor,  who  directed  her  studies,  saw  the  wide  field  in 
which  she  had  to  move,  he  did  not  attempt  to  circumscribe  the 
excursions  of  his  pupil's  mind.  He  allowed  her  to  range  at 
large  through  the  momentous  defiles  and  tremendous  heights 
of  history.  He  did  not  restrain  her,  when  her  adventurous 
spirit  sought  the  more  daring  and  trackless  regions  of  romance. 


202  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

She  possessed  a  solid  understanding,  as  well  as  an  excursive 
fancy ;  and  when  the  bird  flew  abroad  in  the  wilderness  of  fable, 
her  careful  guardian  knew  that  she  remembered  where  the 
olive  grew,  and  that  she  would  return,  to  again  sip  with  him 
from  the  fountain  of  truth. 

Notwithstanding  the  general  approbation  which  followed  her 
novel  of  "Evelina,"  she  did  not  betray  any  signs  of  being  inflated 
with  consciousness  of  worth ;  no  vanity  seemed  to  whisper  to 
her,  that  she  was  superior  to  others,  and  that  there  would  be 
delight  in  displaying  her  triumph.  On  the  contrary,  she  rather 
avoided  than  sought  society,  which  would  have  hailed  her  with 
eagerness,  and  loaded  her  with  applause.  The  timidity  of  her 
nature  shrank  from  crowds ;  and  even  small  circles,  unless 
formed  of  intimate  acquaintances,  were  too  oppressive,  and  de- 
manded from  her  a  greater  exertion  of  spirits  than  her  retired 
habits  would  allow  her  to  summon  for  the  occasion.  Her  home 
and  her  library,  were  central  attractions  which  bound  her  to 
themselves.  She  had  read  enough  of  the  world  to  persuade  her 
to  relinquish  all  desire  of  seemg  it ;  and  she  thought  that  a 
modern  fine  lady,  and  even  a  modern  beau,  whether  titled  or  of 
"humbler  note,"  were  poor  exchanges,  to  be  accepted  in  lieu  of 
the  worthies  of  Greece,  and  Rome,  and  Old  England. 

She  was  herself  almost  an  Evelina  in  actual  acquaintance 
with  mankind,  when,  for  a  private  reason,  which  reflects  the 
highest  honor  on  her  heart  and  domestic  affection,  she  produced 
that  justly  admired  novel.  It  was  written  and  published  un- 
knoAvn  to  her  father;  who,  having  occasion  to  visit  the  me- 
tropolis, soon  after  its  issue  from  the  press,  heard  nothing  else 
spoken  of  Indeed,  the  applause  was  so  general,  that  his  curi- 
osity was  excited  to  see  what  all  the  world  praised;  and  resolving 
to  treat  his  family  with  so  fashionable  a  feast,  he  made  a  purchase 
of  the  book. 

When  the  business  which  carried  him  to  town  was  completed, 
he  returned  to  Chessington,  (a  any  old  mansion,  then  inhabited 
by  Mr.  Crisp,)  where  his  children  were  upon  a  visit.  With 
them  and  their  worthy  host,  he  proposed  reading  the  far  famed 
adventures  of  "  Evelina." 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  203 

It  was  in  the  rural  precincts  of  Chessington  Hall,  that  the 
early  genius  of  Miss  Burney  first  tried  its  strength.  It  was 
there  that  the  seducing  form  of  romance,  that  lovely  daughter 
of  imagination,  rose  to  the  sight  of  the  youthful  enchantress. 
The  vision  passed  in  ethereal  beauty  before  her  eyes ;  and 
myrtles,  and  roses,  and  overshadowing  eglantines,  formed  the 
theatre  on  which  the  magic  scene  was  performed. 

The  acclamations  which  followed  the  closing  of  the  last 
volume,  ratified  the  approbation  of  the  public.  The  amiable 
author  looked  from  side  to  side,  and  overcame  by  the  delicious 
feelings  which  rushed  upon  her  heart,  she  burst  into  tears,  and 
throwing  her  arms  about  her  father's  neck,  avowed  herself  to 
be  the  writer  of  "  Evelina."  The  astonishment  and  pleasure  of 
Doctor  Burney  were  nearly  equal,  and  he  could  scarcely 
credit  his  senses.  Intelligent  as  he  knew  his  daughter  to  be, 
he  had  formed  no  conception  that  such  maturity  of  observation, 
fancy,  judgment,  and  style,  could  have  been  displayed  by  a  girl 
of  seventeen ;  by  one  who  appeared  to  the  outward  eye,  a  mere 
infant  in  artlessness  and  inexperience ;  and  whose  deep  seclu- 
sion from  the  world  had  shut  her  out  from  all  visual  knowledge 
of  its  ways.  But  the  proof  showed  a  different  conclusion. 
Though  bred  a  simple  country  girl,  and  apparently  little  be- 
yond a  child  in  discernment,  yet  nature  had  taught  her  own 
scholar,  and  gave  to  her  morning  of  life  a  proficiency  in  the  art 
of  composition,  which  few  attain  at  the  noon,  or  at  the  close. 

So  great  was  the  success  of"  Evelina,"  that  it  went  through  four 
editions  in  one  year,  and  brought  the  author  into  such  repute, 
that  her  acquaintance  was  sought  by  some  of  the  most  illustrious 
characters  in  England.  Doctor  Samuel  Johnson  was  one  of 
her  first,  and  it  may  be  presumed,  one  of  her  most  beneficial 
friends.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  who  is  called  the  "  Father  of  the 
British  School  of  Painting,"  was  one  of  the  earliest  to  single  her 
out  as  an  object  of  distinguished  esteem ;  while  Edmund  Burke, 
who  was  himself  not  only  the  analyzer  of  the  sublime  and  beau- 
tiful, but,  like  Longinus,  could  show  in  his  own  writing  the  finest 
models  of  that  "  sublimity  and  beauty  which  he  drew,"  proved 
one  of  Miss  Burney's  most  intimate  acquaintance. 


204  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

It  was  in  such  society  that  she  learned  to  make  those  obser- 
vations, which  led  her  to  write  the  novel  of  "  Cecilia,"  which  is 
generally  regarded  as  the  best  of  her  works,  with  such  pre- 
cision of  character,  discernment  into  human  nature,  and  power 
over  the  sympathies  of  her  readers.  The  last  and  longest  of  her 
novels  was  "  Camilla,"  which  was  favored  with  one  of  the  largest 
subscriptions  that  ever  preceded  the  title  page  of  any  book,  and 
brought  a  golden  wreath  to  adorn  the  brow  of  its  author. 

Miss  Burney  married  Monseur  d' Arblay,  a  French  gentleman 
of  family,  who  was  obliged  to  leave  his  country  during  the 
horrors  of  the  revolution. 

After  the  publication  of  "  Camilla,"  Madame  d' Arblay  and  her 
husband  remained  for  a  considerable  time  to  their  cottage  in 
Surry.  Contented  with  her  lot,  and  grateful  to  that  providence 
which  had  cast  it  in  the  vale  of  life,  where  storms  seldom  rage, 
and  envy  will  not  deign  to  enter  to  disturb  its  calm,  she  enjoyed, 
with  temperance  and  satisfaction,  the  endearing  tenor  of  her 
days.  Thus  did  month  after  month,  and  year  after  year,  glide 
gently  over  her  head.  But  Monseur  d' Arblay  longed  to  revisit 
his  country ;  his  patriot  spirit  "  yearned  for  his  buried  home  ;" 
and  when  peace  was  at  last  proclaimed  between  England  and 
France,  he  proposed  to  his  wife  a  journey  to  the  continent.  His 
wishes  were  commands  to  her,  whose  happiness  was  entirely 
comprised  in  his ;  and  after  a  short  time  spent  in  the  usual  pre- 
parations, separations,  condolements,  and  promises  of  return, 
they  set  out  for  France.  Madame  d' Arblay  has  within  a  few 
years  past  written  a  life  of  her  father,  Doctor  Burney,  but  either 
the  subject  was  one  of  so  much  interest  to  her  that  she  could  not 
do  it  justice,  or  she  was  not  accustomed  to  write  biography,  and 
had  not  studied  the  rules  of  this  species  of  composition,  for  these, 
or  some  other  reasons,  her  work  was  not  popular.  She  cer- 
tainly had  lost  much  of  her  taste  for  pure,  good  English.  From 
living  so  many  years  with  a  husband  who  was  a  foreigner,  of 
powerful  mind  and  a  finished  education,  and  to  whom  she  was 
greatly  attached,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  her  genius, 
lost  that  independence,  which  it  so  happily  discovered,  when 
its  flights  were  self-directed. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  205 

Sarah  Edwards,  the  wife  of  the  celebrated  metaphysician 
and  scholar,  Jonathan  Edwards,  and  daughter  of  the  Rev.  John 
Pierpoint,  a  descendant  of  the  duke  of  Kingston,  and  of  course 
a  relation  of  the  celebrated  Lady  Wartley  Montague,  was  born 
at  New  Haven,  on  the  ninth  of  January,  1710.  Mrs.  Edwards 
was  a  beauty  and  a  scholar ;  she  early  became  celebrated,  and 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  young  men  of  that  age ;  but  she 
gave  her  hand  to  Mr.  Edwards,  who  united  a  genteel  person 
with  rare  attainments  and  exemplary  piety.  She  had  an  excel- 
lent education,  she  was  chivalrous  in  her  acquirements  and  her 
virtues.  In  the  sublime  views  Mr.  Edwards  had  of  religion,  he 
was  alive  to  all  who  had  the  cause  of  the  church  at  heart,  and 
was  made  acquainted  with  this  extraordinary  female,  when  she 
was  a  mere  child.  This  acquaintance  was  kept  up  until  she 
was  eighteen  years  of  age,  when  they  were  married,  and  re- 
moved to  Northampton,  at  which  place  he  had  been  previously 
settled  over  a  congregation.  He  was  some  years  older  than 
his  wife ;  but  at  the  tune  of  his  marriage,  was  a  bright  and 
shining  light  in  the  church.  Owing  to  some  difficulty  arising 
out  of  his  views  of  duty,  in  extending  his  discipline  beyond  the 
ordinarily  received  pastoral  functions  of  a  clergyman,  he  en- 
countered, notwithstanding  his  talents  and  piety,  a  serious  oppo- 
sition, which  destroyed  his  usefulness  in  that  place.  She  was  all 
the  time  his  firm,  affectionate  friend  and  counsellor,  and  softened 
evils  that  would  have  otherwise  been  grievous  indeed ;  she  took 
care  of  all  the  household  concerns,  and  left  her  husband  free  to 
pursue  his  studies,  and  he  was  a  devoted  student.  Mrs.  Ed- 
wards took  special  care  of  the  education  of  her  children,  and 
they  rewarded  her  for  all  her  pains.  The  whole  of  her  family 
that  grew  to  maturity,  became  distinguished  persons  ;  many  of 
them  were  conspicuous  in  early  youth.  The  biographers  of 
this  excellent  woman  are  never  tired  of  speaking  of  her  religious 
course,  for  it  was  as  remarkable  for  consistency  as  fervor.  Her 
son  in  law.  Dr.  Burr,  president  of  Princeton  College,  died  in 
1757,  and  her  husband  was  at  once  appointed  to  supply  his 
place;    he  did  not  long  fill  it,  for  he  died  in  the  spring  of  1758 

of  the  small- pox.     His  wife  had  not  then  joined  him  at  Prince- 

18 


206  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

ton.  His  death  was  communieated  to  her  by  a  letter  from  Dr. 
Shippin.  The  letter  reached  Mrs.  Edwards  and  was  indeed  a 
severe  shock  to  her ;  but  her  feelings  had  been  so  disciplined, 
that  she  was  in  a  manner  prepared  for  every  event  that  might 
happen.  Mrs.  Burr  and  her  children  were  inoculated  at  the 
same  time  with  President  Edwards,  and  had  recovered  when  he 
died,  but  she  had  a  relapse,  which  carried  her  off  very  suddenly, 
on  the  seventh  of  April,  1758,  in  the  twenty-seventh  year  of  her 
age,  leaving  two  children.  Mrs.  Edwards  did  not  long  survive 
her  husband,  she  died  on  the  second  of  October  of  the  same 
year,  aged  forty-nine.  Her  remains  were  carried  to  Princeton, 
to  repose  with  those  of  her  husband,  daughter,  and  son  in  law. 
In  little  more  than  a  year  these  four  persons  went  down  to  the 
grave;  the  three  latter  being  in  good  health  when  President 
Burr  died.  The  letters  of  Mrs.  Edwards  were  mostly  on  pious 
subjects,  and  carry  no  extraordinary  marks  of  genius ;  but  con- 
temporary history  must  be  in  the  greatest  error  if  her  powers  of 
mind  were  not  of  the  highest  order,  and  perhaps,  of  the  most 
exalted  kind.  Such  women  were  truly  the  mothers  in  Israel, 
whose  descendants  rise  up  and  call  them  blessed. 


Elizabeth  of  Austria,  was  the  daughter  of  the  Emperor 
Maximilian  II.,  and  wife  of  Charles  IX.,  of  France,  to  whom 
she  was  united  at  Mazieres,  in  1471.  The  horrid  massacre  of 
St.  Bartholomew  was  executed  without  her  knowledge,  and  she 
never  named  it  without  the  liveliest  feelings  of  grief;  yet  she 
was  a  princess  who  did  not  interfere  with  the  affairs  of  govern- 
ment, and  cruel  as  Charles'  disposition  was,  he  felt  towards  her 
the  tenderest  regard.  Upon  his  death  bed  he  recommended  her 
in  the  tenderest  manner  to  Henry  his  successor,  who  always 
treated  her  with  the  greatest  respect.  She  died  in  a  convent  of 
her  own  founding,  in  the  thirty-ninth  year  of  her  a^.  This 
princess  is  not  only  allowed  to  have  been  an  amiable,  but  an  in- 
telligent character,  and  she  published  two  different  works,  one 
on  the  "  Word  of  God  and  the  Creation  ;"  and  the  other  "  A 
Relation  of  the  chief  events  in  France."  They  are  hardly  now 
to  be  found. 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  207 

Elpis,  a  lady  of  the  fifth  century,  descended  from  one  of  the 
most  considerable  families  of  Messina,  was  first  wife  of  the  cele- 
brated Boethius.  Like  her  husband  she  w^as  devoted  to  science 
and  shared  with  him  his  literary  labors.  She  examined  passages 
and  transcribed  quotations,  and  the  same  ardor  eminently  ap- 
peared in  both.  Far  from  withdrawing  him  from  his  studies, 
she  was  sedulous  to  animate  him  when  he  grew  langTiid  in 
them.  In  her,  all  the  accomplishments  of  the  head  and  heart 
were  united.  She  had  a  fine  taste  in  literature,  particularly  in 
poetry,  and  was  a  shining  exam.ple  of  every  virtue ;  so  that  she 
must  have  been  a  delightful  companion  to  this  eminent  philoso- 
pher and  statesman.  Indeed,  each  are  said  to  have  thought  their 
destinies  equally  enviable.  She  had  the  happiness  of  seeing  her 
two  sons,  Patritius  and  Hypatius  raised  to  the  consular  dignity, 
which  their  father  had  also  several  times  enjoyed,  but  she  died 
before  any  of  his  latter  misfortunes  had  befallen  him.  After  the 
death  of  this  beloved  wife,  Boethius  married  again,  and  is  said 
to  have  been  equally  fortunate  in  his  second  choice. 


Elizabeth,  queen  of  England.  If  the  question  respecting 
the  equality  of  the  sexes  was  to  be  determined  by  an  appeal  to 
the  characters  of  sovereign  princes,  the  comparison  is,  in  pro- 
portion manifestly  in  favor  of  woman,  and  that  without  having 
recourse  to  the  trite  and  flippant  observation,  proved  to  have 
been  ill-founded,  of  male  and  female  influence.  Elizabeth  of 
England  aflbrds  a  glorious  example  in  truth  of  this  position. 

Daughter  of  Henry  VIII.,  a  capricious  tyrant,  and  of  the  im- 
prudent and  unfortunate  Anne  Boleyn,  Elizabeth  was  born  at 
Greenwich,  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  September  7th,  1533. 
Her  infancy  was  unfortunate  through  the  unhappy  fate  of  her 
mother,  but  she  was  nevertheless  educated  with  care  and  atten- 
tion ;  in  her  yet  infant  faculties  her  father  had  the  discernment 
to  perceive  uncommon  strength  and  promise.  Lady  Champern- 
vun,  an  accomplished  and  excellent  woman,  was  appointed  by 
Henry,  governess  to  the  young  princess.  It  appears  to  have 
been  the  custom  of  the  times  to  instruct  young  women  in  the 
learned  languages  ;  an  admirable  substitute  for  fashionable  and 


208  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

frivolous  acquisitions;  habits  of  real  study  and  application  have 
a  tendency  to  strengthen  the  faculties  and  discipline  the  imagina- 
tion.    Mr.  William  Grindal  was  Elizabeth's  Jfirst  classical  tutor ; 
with  him  she  made  a  rapid  progress ;  from  other  masters  she 
received  the  rudiments  of  modern  languages ;  at  eleven  years  of 
age,  she  translated  out  of  French  verse  into  English  prose,  "  The 
Mirror  of  the  Sinful  Soul,"   which  she  dedicated  to  Catherine 
Parr,  sixth  wife  to  Henry  VIIL     At  twelve  years  of  age,  she 
translated  from  the  English  into  Latin,  French,  and  Italian, 
prayers  and  meditations,  &c.,  collected  from  different  authors,  by 
Catherine,   queen   of  England.     These  she  dedicated  to  her 
father,  December  30th,  1545,  MS.  in  the  royal  library  at  West- 
minster.    She  also,  about  the  same  period,  translated  from  the 
French,  "  The  Meditations  of   Margaret,  queen  of  Navarre, 
&c.,"  published  by  Bale,  1548. 

Mr.  Ascham  thus  speaks  of  Elizabeth,  in  a  letter  to  Sir 
John  Cheke :  "  It  can  scarcely  be  credited  to  what  degree  of 
skill  in  the  Latin  and  Greek  she  might  arrive,  if  she  should  pro- 
ceed in  that  course  of  study  wherein  she  hath  begun  by  the 
guidance  of  Grindal."  In  1548,  she  had  the  misfortune  to  lose 
her  tutor,  who  died  of  the  plague.  At  this  time,  it  is  observed 
by  Camden,  that  she  was  versed  in  the  Latin,  French,  Spanish, 
and  Italian  tongues,  had  some  knowledge  of  the  Greek,  was 
■well  skilled  m  music,  and  both  sung  and  played  with  art  and 
sweetness. 

After  the  death  of  her  father,  her  brother  king  Edward,  who 
tenderly  loved  her,  encouraged  her  in  her  studies  and  literary 
pursuits,  while,  without  imposition  or  restraint,  he  left  her  to 
choose  her  own  principles  and  preceptors.  To  supply  the  loss 
of  her  tutor,  she  addressed  herself  to  the  celebrated  Roger  As- 
cham, who,  at  her  solicitation,  left  Cambridge,  and  consented  to 
become  her  instructor.  Under  him,  she  read  the  orations  of 
Eschines  and  Demosthenes'  "  De  Corona,"  in  Cxreek,  and  under- 
stood at  first  sight,  not  only  the  force  and  propriety  of  the  lan- 
guage and  the  meaning  of  the  orator,  but  the  whole  scheme  of 
the  laws,  customs,  and  manners  of  the  Athenians,  By  Doctor 
Grindal,  professor  of  theology,  she  was  initiated  into  the  subtle- 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  209 

ties  of  polemic  divinity,  to  which  she  gave  assiduous  application. 
Such,  during  the  short  reign  of  her  brother,  was  the  laudable 
and  tranquil  time  of  her  life,  and  by  these  occupations  and  pur- 
suits, she  was  prepared  for  the  great  part  she  was  to  act  on  the 
theatre  of  Europe. 

In  July,  1553,  Mary,  after  the  death  of  Edward,  succeeded  to 
the  throne ;  and  having  received  from  her  sister  many  favors 
and  testimonies  of  esteem,  she  treated  her  at  first  with  a  form  of 
regard  ;  but  Elizabeth  was  afterwards  imprisoned,  and  harshly 
treated,  even  to  the  hazard  of  her  life.  Her  sufferings  were 
however  mitigated  by  the  interposition  of  Philip,  the  husband 
of  Mary,  for  which  she  was  ever  grateful. 

The  reign,  the  bigotry,  and  the  butchery  of  Mary,  who,  to  do 
God  service,  amused  herself  by  burning  and  torturing  her  peo- 
ple, lasted  five  years  and  four  months.  She  died,  fortunately 
for  the  nation,  November  17th,  1558.  A  parliament  had  been 
assembled  a  few  days  previous  to  her  death,  to  which  the  chan- 
cellor notified  the  event.  *'  God  save  dueen  Elizabeth,"  re- 
sounded in  joyful  acclamations  through  both  houses,  while  by 
the  people  a  transport  still  more  general  and  fervent  was  ex- 
pressed. 

The  commencement  of  her  reign  was  not  less  auspicious, 
than  its  duration  was  prosperous  to  the  country,  and  glorious  to 
herself  It  is  observed  by  Bayle,  that  to  say  only  that  no  woman 
reigned  with  more  glory,  would  be  saying  little.  *'  It  must  be 
added,  that  there  have  been  but  few  great  kings  whose  reigns 
are  comparable  to  hers,  it  being  the  most  beautiful  period  of 
English  history." 

Elizabeth  when  informed  of  the  death  of  her  sister,  was  at 
Hatfield,  whence,  after  a  few  days,  she  proceeded  to  London, 
through  crowds  of  people,  who  contended  with  each  other  in 
testimonies  of  joy  and  attachment.  On  entering  the  Tower,  she 
was  affected  with  the  comparison  of  her  past  and  present  situa- 
tion ;  once  a  captive,  exposed  to  the  bigotry  and  malignity 
of  her  enemies,  now  a  sovereign,  triumphant  over  her  adversa- 
ries, and  the  hope  and  joy  of  the  nation.     Falling  on  her  knees, 

she  expressed  her  gratitude  to  heaven,  for  the  deliverance  she 

18* 


210  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

had  experienced  from  her  persecutors,  a  deliverance,  she  declar- 
ed, not  less  miraculous  than  that  of  Daniel  from  the  den  of  lions. 
With  a  magnanimity  that  did  her  honor,  and  a  prudence  that 
evinced  her  judgment,  she  threw  a  veil  over  every  offence  that 
had  been  committed  against  her,  and  received  graciously  and 
with  affability  the  most  virulent  of  her  enemies. 

On  the  death  of  her  sister,  Elizabeth  had,  by  her  ambassador, 
signified  her  accession  to  the  pope,  whose  precipitate  temper^ 
insolent  reflections,  and  extravagant  demands,  determined  her  to 
persevere  in  the  plan  she  had  already  secretly  embraced.  While, 
to  conciliate  the  catholics  she  retained  in  her  cabinet  eleven  of 
her  sister's  counsellors,  she  took  care  to  ballance  their  power  by 
adding  to  their  number  eight  partisans  of  the  protestant  faith ; 
among  whom  were  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon,  whom  she  created  lord 
keeper,  and  Sir  William  Cecil,  made  secretary  of  state. 

Cecil  assured  her,  that  the  greater  part  of  the  nation,  since  the 
reign  of  her  father,  inclined  to  the  reformation,  though  constrain- 
ed to  conceal  their  principles  by  the  cruelties  practised  under  the 
late  reign.  These  arguments,  to  which  other  considerations  and 
reasonings  were  added,  founded  on  policy,  and  on  a  knowledge 
of  mankind,  had  their  just  weight  with  Elizabeth,  and  deter- 
mined her  to  adopt  the  party  which  education  and  political  wis- 
dom equally  inclined  to  her  favor.  Yet  she  wisely  resolved  to 
proceed  gradually,  by  safe  and  progressive  steps.  As  symptoms 
of  her  future  intentions,  and  with  a  view  of  encouraging  the 
protestants,  whom  persecution  had  discouraged  and  depressed, 
she  recalled  all  the  exiles,  and  gave  liberty  to  those  who  had,  on 
account  of  their  religion,  been  confined  in  prison.  She  also 
altered  the  religious  service,  and  gave  orders,  that  the  Lord's 
prayer,  the  litany,  the  creed  and  the  gospels,  should  be  read 
in  the  church  in  the  vulgar  tongue  ;  and  she  forbade  the  eleva- 
tion of  the  host  in  her  presence. 

The  bishops,  forseeing  in  these  measures  the  impending 
change,  refused  to  officiate  at  her  coronation ;  and  it  was  not 
without  difficulty  that  the  bishop  of  Carlisle  was  at  length  pre- 
vailed upon  to  perform  the  ceremony.  Amidst  the  joyful  accla- 
mations of  her  subjects,  as  she  was  conducted  through  London, 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  21 1 

a  boy,  personating  Truth,  let  down  from  a  triumphal  arch,  pre- 
sented to  her  a  copy  of  the  bible.  She  received  the  present  gra- 
ciously, placed  it  near  her  heart,  and  declared,  that  of  all  the 
costly  testimonies  of  attachment  given  to  her  that  day  by  the 
city,  this  was  the  most  precious  and  acceptable.  Elizabeth  in- 
sinuated herself  into  the  affections  of  the  people  by  the  most 
laudable  art ;  frank  in  her  address,  and,  on  all  public  occasions, 
affable,  conciliating  and  easy  of  access,  she  appeared,  delighted 
with  the  concourse  that  crowded  around  her ;  entered,  without 
forgetting  her  dignity,  into  the  pleasures  and  amusements  of  her 
subjects;  and  acquired  a  popularity  unknown  to  her  predeces- 
sors. Her  youth,  her  graces,  her  prudence,  her  fortitude,  and 
her  talents,  attracted  the  admiration  of  one  sex,  and  afforded  to 
the  other  a  subject  of  pride  and  triumph.  Individuals  were  cap- 
tivated by  her  complacency,  the  public  won  by  her  services, 
while  her  authority,  chastened  by  religion  and  law,  appeared  to 
be  derived  from  its  legitimate  source,  the  choice  and  affections 
of  the  people. 

The  commons  entreated  her  with  all  humility,  that  she  would 
make  choice  of  a  husband,  to  share  with  her  the  weight  of 
government ;  a  request  which  they  hoped,  from  her  sex  and  age, 
would  not  be  displeasing  or  offensive.  To  this  Elizabeth  repli- 
ed, that  as  their  application  was  expressed  in  general  terms, 
merely  recommending  marriage,  without  pretending  to  direct 
her  choice,  she  could  not  be  offended,  or  regard  their  v/ishes 
otherwise  than  as  a  new  instance  of  their  attachment  towards 
her ;  but  that  any  farther  interposition  respecting  this  subject,  on 
their  part,  it  would  ill  become  them  as  subjects  to  make,  or  her, 
as  an  independent  princess  to  endure.  England  was  the  hus- 
band which  she  had  betrothed  to  her ;  Englishmen  were  her 
children ;  while  employed  in  rearing  and  governing  such  a  fa- 
mily, she  could  not  deem  herself  sterile,  or  her  life  useless.  She 
desired,  for  her  own  part,  no  higher  character,  nor  fairer  remem- 
brance of  her  to  be  transmitted  to  posterity,  than  to  have  this 
inscription,  when  she  should  pay  the  debt  of  nature,  engraven 
on  her  tomb:  "Her  lies  Queen  Elizabeth,  who  lived  and  died 
a  maiden  queen." 


212  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Misfortune  threw  the  queen  of  Scots  in  the  power  of  Eliza- 
beth, and  she  was  denied  those  services,  to  which  the  unfortunate 
are  entitled.  Elizabeth  viewed  her  with  jealousy  as  heir  to  the 
crown,  and  she  was  fearful  that  her  beauty  and  influence,  might 
supplant  her  popularity.  She  was  kept  in  prison  eighteen  years, 
and  then  executed  on  the  scaffold.  This  transaction,  will  ever 
remain  a  foul  blot  on  the  character  of  Elizabeth. 

Neither  the  cares  of  government,  nor  the  infirmities  of  ap- 
proaching age,  weaned  her  from  the  love  of  letters,  which,  at 
every  interval  of  leisure,  were  her  great  delight.  When  nearly 
sixty  years  of  age,  in  1592,  she  made  a  second  visit  to  Oxford, 
where,  having  been  entertained  with  orations,  disputations,  &c., 
she  pronounced,  on  her  departure,  a  Latin  oration  to  the  ■vace- 
chanceilors  and  doctors,  when  she  took  her  last  farewell  of  the 
university.  In  the  ensuing  year,  she  translated  from  Latin  into 
English,  Boethius'  "  De  Consolatione  Philosophge."  In  1598, 
when  the  disturbances  in  Ireland  occupied  a  considerable  share 
of  her  attention,  she  translated  Sallust's  "  De  hello  Jugurthino." 
Also,  the  greater  part  of  Horace's  "  De  Arte  Poetica,"  and  Plu- 
tarch's book,  "  De  Curiositate,"  all  of  which  were  written  in 
her  own  hand. 

But  Elizabeth  no  longer  took  an  interest  in  public  concerns  ; 
her  sun  was  sitting,  overshadowed  by  a  dark  cloud.  Prosperity 
and  glory  palled  upon  her  sense ;  an  incurable  melancholy  had 
fixed  itself  on  her  heart.  The  anxiety  of  her  mind  made  swift 
ravages  upon  her  feeble  frame  ;  the  period  of  her  life  visibly  ap- 
proached. The  archbishop  of  Canterbury  advised  her  to  fix 
her  thoughts  on  God.  She  did  so,  she  replied,  nor  did  her 
mind  in  the  least  wander  from  him.  Her  voice  and  her  senses 
soon  after  failing,  she  fell  into  a  lethargic  slumber,  which  hav- 
ing continued  some  hours,  she  expired  gently,  without  a  strug- 
gle, March  24th,  1603,  in  the  seventieth  year  of  her  age,  and  the 
forty-fifth  of  her  reign. 

The  character  of  Elizabeth  appears  to  have  been  exalted  by 
her  friends,  and  depreciated  by  her  enemies,  in  nearly  equal  pro- 
portions. As  a  monarch,  her  activity  and  force  of  mind,  her 
magnanimity,  sagacity,  prudence,  vigilance,  and  address,  have 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  213 

scarcely  been  surpassed  in  royal  annals,  and  are  worthy  of  the 
highest  admiration.  Pope  Sixtus  V.  spoke  of  her  on  all  occa- 
sions as  "  a  woman  with  a  strong  head,"  and  gave  her  a  place 
among  the  three  persons,  who,  in  his  opinion,  only  deserved  to 
reign;  the  remaining  two  were  himself  and  Henry  IV.,  of 
France.  "  Your  queen,"  said  he,  once  to  an  Englishman,  "  is 
born  fortunate,  she  governs  her  kingdom  with  great  happiness ; 
she  wants  only  to  be  married  to  me,  to  give  the  world  a  second 
Alexander." 

Her  temper  and  her  talents  equally  fitted  her  for  government. 
Capable  of  self-command,  and  of  controlling  her  own  passions, 
she  acquired  an  unlimited  ascendency  over  those  of  her  people. 
She  possessed  courage  without  temerity;  spirit,  resource,  and 
activity  in  war,  with  the  love  of  peace  and  tranquillity.  Her 
frugality  was  exempt  from  avarice,  it  was  the  result  rather  of 
her  love  of  independence,  than  a  passion  for  accumulation.  She 
never  amassed  any  treasures.  Her  friendships  were  uniform 
and  steady,  yet  she  was  never  governed  by  her  favorites,  a  cri- 
terion of  a  strong  mind.  Her  choice  in  her  ministers  gave 
proof  of  her  sagacity,  as  her  constancy  in  supporting  them  did 
of  her  firmness.  If  a  conduct  less  rigorous,  less  imperious, 
and  more  indulgent,  would  have  thrown  greater  lustre  over  her 
character,  let  it  be  remembered,  that  some  good  qualities  appear 
to  be  incompatible  with  others  ;  nor  let  the  seductive  and  corrupt- 
ing nature  of  power  be  left  out  in  the  account.  Her  insincerity 
was  perhaps  the  greatest  blot  in  her  character,  and  the  fruitful 
source  of  all  the  vexatious  incidents  of  her  reign.  Though  un- 
acquainted with  philosophical  toleration,  the  only  method  of  dis- 
arming the  turbulence  of  religious  factions,  she  yet  preserved 
her  people,  by  her  prudence  and  good  sense,  from  those  theo- 
logical disputes  which  desolated  the  neighboring  nations. 

Beset  with  enemies,  both  at  home  and  abroad,  among  the  most 
powerful  princes  in  Europe,  the  most  enterprising  and  the  least 
scrupulous,  the  vigor  of  her  administration  enabled  her  to  de- 
feat all  their  purposes,  to  annoy  and  plunder  them  in  their  own 
dominions,  and  to  preserve  her  own  dignity  untouched  and  un- 
impaired.    Few  monarchs  have  succeeded  to  a  throne  in  more 


214  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

difficult  circumstances,  nor  have  any  ever  reigned  with  more 
uniform  success  and  prosperity. 

If,  as  a  woman,  cut  off  by  the  peculiarities  of  her  situation 
from  the  sympathies  of  nature,  and  the  charm  of  equal  affec- 
tions, Elizabeth,  at  times,  suffered  under  these  privations,  which 
even  gave  to  her  sensibility  additional  force  and  accuteness,  the 
strength  of  her  reason  still  triumphed  over  her  passions,  and  the 
struggle  which  her  victories  cost  her,  served  but  to  display  the 
firmness  of  her  resolution,  and  the  loftiness  of  her  mind. 

The  praises  which  have  by  some  been  bestowed  upon  Eliza- 
beth, for  her  regard  for  the  constitution  and  tender  concern  for 
the  liberties  of  the  people,  are  wholly  without  foundation.  Few 
princes  have  exerted  with  more  arbitary  power  the  regal  prero- 
gatives, which  had  been  transmitted  to  her  by  her  immediate  pre- 
decessors ;  3?-et  no  censure  belongs  to  her  for  this  conduct,  in  the 
principles  of  which  she  had  been  trained,  and  of  the  justice  of 
which  she  was  persuaded.  What  potentate,  what  man,  has  vo- 
luntarily resigned  the  power  in  which  those  beneath  him  quietly 
acquiesced  ?  Compared  with  the  reigns  of  her  father  and  sister, 
that  of  Elizabeth  might  be  termed  a  golden  age. 

In  the  article  of  her  dress,  only,  Elizabeth  affected  an  expen- 
sive magnificence.  Her  opinion  of  her  beauty,  and  her  passion 
for  admiration,  led  her  to  study  variety  and  richness  in  her 
apparel.  She  appeared  almost  daily  in  different  habits,  and 
tried  every  mode  of  varying  their  form.  Nor  would  she  ever 
part  with  her  clothes.  At  her  death,  three  thousand  different 
dresses  were  found  in  her  wardrobe.  Next  to  her  desire  of  per- 
sonal admiration,  was  her  vanity  of  authorship.  Learning  was 
the  fashion  of  the  times ;  the  ladies  of  the  court,  in  imitation  of 
the  queen,  valued  themselves  on  their  erudition.  Yet  Elizabeth 
was  by  no  means  a  patroness  of  letters;  Spenser,  the  finest 
English  writer  of  the  age,  was  long  neglected,  and  at  the 
death  of  his  patron,  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  was  suffered  to  perish 
almost  for  want.  Shakspeare  was  almost  her  only  favorite. 
His  elegant  compliment  to  the  "  maiden  queen"  in  "  The  Mid- 
summer's Night's  Dream,"  won  her  heart,  and  her  regard  foi 
him  was  substantial  and  unvarying. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  215 

Elizabeth  Ferguson  was  the  daughter  of  Dr.  Thomas 
Graeme,  by  Anne,  the  daughter  of  Sir  William  Keith,  then 
governor  of  Pennsylvania.  Her  father  was  a  native  of  Scotland, 
and  a  graduate  in  medicine.  For  nearly  half  a  century  he 
maintained  the  first  rank  in  his  profession  in  the  city  of  Phila- 
delphia. He  held,  during  a  great  part  of  this  time,  the  office 
of  collector  of  the  port.  Her  mother  possessed  a  masculine 
mind,  with  all  those  female  charms  and  accomplishments  which 
render  a  woman  alike  agreeable  to  both  sexes.  They  had 
one  son  and  three  daughters,  all  of  whom  attained  to  the  age 
of  maturity.  The  subject  of  this  memoir  was  the  youngest  of 
them.  She  discovered,  in  early  life,  signs  of  uncommon  talents 
and  virtues,  both  of  which  were  cultivated  with  great  care,  and 
chiefly  by  her  mother.  Her  person  was  slender,  and  her  health 
delicate.  The  latter  was  partly  the  effect  of  native  weakness, 
being  feeble  from  her  birth,  and  partly  acquired  by  too  great 
application  to  books.  She  passed  her  youth  in  the  lap  of  pa- 
rental affection.  A  pleasant  and  highly  improved  retreat,  known 
by  the  name  of  Grasme  Park,  in  Montgomery  county,  twenty 
miles  from  Philadelphia,  in  which  her  parents  spent  their  sum- 
mers, afforded  her  the  most  delightful  opportunities  for  study, 
meditation,  rural  walks,  and  pleasures,  and,  above  all,  for  culti- 
vating a  talent  for  poetry.  This  retreat  was,  moreover,  conse- 
crated to  society  and  friendship.  A  plentiful  table  was  spread 
daily  for  visitors,  and  two  or  three  young  ladies  from  Philadel- 
phia generally  partook  with  Miss  Graeme  of  the  enjoyments 
which  her  situation  in  the  country  furnished.  About  her  seven- 
teenth year  she  was  addressed  by  a  citizen  of  Philadelphia  of 
respectable  connexions  and  character.  She  gave  him  her  heart, 
with  the  promise  of  her  hand  upon  his  return  from  London, 
whither  he  went  to  complete  his  education  in  the  law.  From 
causes  which  it  is  not  necessary  to  detail,  the  contract  of  mar- 
riage, at  a  future  day,  was  broken,  but  not  without  much  suffer- 
ing on  the  part  of  Miss  Graeme.  To  relieve  and  divert  her 
mind  from  the  effects  of  this  event,  she  translated  the  whole  of 
Telemachus  into  English  verse ;  but  this,  instead  of  saving, 
perhaps  aided  the  distress  of  her  disappointment  in  impairing 


216  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

her  health,  and  that,  to  such  a  degree  as  to  induce  her  father,  in 
conjunction  with  two  other  physicians,  to  advise  a  voyage  to 
England  for  its  recovery.  Her  mother  concurred  in  this  advice, 
but  for  another  reason  besides  that  of  restoring  her  daughter's 
health.  This  venerable  and  excellent  woman  had  long  labored 
under  a  disease  which,  she  believed,  would  have  a  fatal  issue. 
She  anticipated  the  near  approach  of  death  ;  and  that  it  might 
be  less  terrible  to  her,  she  wished  her  daughter  to  be  removed 
beyond  the  sphere  of  the  counter  attractions  of  her  affections 
from  the  world  of  spirits,  which  her  presence  near  her  deathbed 
would  excite.  This  feeling  is  not  a  solitary  or  casual  one,  in 
the  human  mind.  Archbishop  Lightfoot  wished  to  die  from 
home,  that  he  might  dissolve  more  easily  his  ties  to  his  family. 
A  lady  in  Philadelphia,  some  years  ago,  in  her  last  moments 
said  to  her  daughter,  who  sat  weeping  at  her  bedside,  "  Leave 
me,  my  child ;  I  cannot  die  while  you  are  in  the  room."  Many 
instances  of  similar  conflicts  between  religion  and  nature  have 
occurred  in  domestic  history  which  have  escaped  general  obser- 
vation. 

Mrs.  Graeme  died,  according  to  her  expectations  and  wishes, 
during  her  daughter's  absence,  leaving  behind  her  two  farewell 
letters,  to  be  delivered  to  her  on  her  return ;  one  upon  the  choice 
of  a  husband,  and  the  other  upon  the  management  of  a  family. 
These  letters  contain  many  original  ideas,  and  the  most  ardent 
expressions  of  maternal  affection.  The  tenor  of  these  expres- 
sions may  easily  be  conceived  by  the  following  sentence  extracted 
from  the  introduction  to  one  of  them  :  "  I  have  rested  for  some 
time  with  my  pen  in  my  hand,  from  being  at  a  loss  to  find  out 
an  epithet  to  address  you  with,  that  shall  fully  express  my  affec- 
tion for  you.  After  a  good  deal  of  deliberation  I  can  find  no- 
thing that  pleases  me  better  than  'my  own  dear  Betsey.'  "* 

*  Mrs.  Graeme  left  letters  to  several  of  her  friends,  to  be  delivered  to  them 
after  her  death.  The  following  is  an  extract  from  one  of  them  to  Mrs.  Red- 
man, the  wife  of  the  late  Dr.  John  Redman : 

"  I  have  been  waiting  with  a  pleasing  expectation  of  my  dissolution  a  great 
while,  and  I  believe  the"  same  portion  of  grace  which  has  been  aflTorded  me 
hitherto,  will  not  be  withdrawn  at  that  trying  hour.  My  trust  is  in  my  hea- 
venly Father's  mercies,  procured  and  promised  for  the  all-sufficient  merits  of 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  217 

Miss  Graeme  spent  a  year  in  England,  where  she  was  accom- 
panied by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Richard  Peters  of  Philadelphia,  a  gen- 
tleman of  highly  polished  manners,  and  whose  rank  enabled 
him  to  mtroduce  her  to  the  most  respectable  circles  of  company. 
She  sought,  and  was  sought  for,  by  the  most  celebrated  literary 
gentleman  who  flourished  in  England  at  the  time  of  the  acces- 
sion of  Georo-e  III.  to  the  throne.  She  was  introduced  to  this 
monarch,  and  particularly  noticed  by  him.  The  celebrated  Dr. 
Fothergill,  whom  she  consulted  as  a  physician,  became  her 
friend  and  correspondent  as  long  as  he  lived.  An  accident 
attached  the  sentimental  and  then  popular  author  of  Tristram 
Shandy  to  her.  She  took  a  seat  upon  the  same  stage  with  him 
at  the  York  races.  While  bets  were  making  upon  different 
horses,  she  selected  a  small  horse  that  was  in  the  rear  of  the 
coursers  as  the  subject  of  a  trifling  wager.  Upon  being  asked 
the  reason  for  doing  so,  she  said  that  "  the  race  was  not  always 
to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the  strong."  Mr.  Sterne,  who  stood 
near  to  her,  was  struck  with  this  reply,  and,  turning  hastily 
towards  her,  begged  for  the  honor  of  her  acquaintance.  They 
soon  became  sociable,  and  a  good  deal  of  pleasant  conversation 
took  place  between  them,  to  the  great  entertainment  of  the  sur- 
rounding company. 

Upon  her  return  to  Philadelphia,  she  was  visited  by  a  nu- 
merous circle  of  friends,  as  well  to  condole  with  her  upon  the 
death  of  her  mother,  as  to  welcome  her  arrival  to  her  native 
shores.  She  soon  discovered,  by  the  streams  of  information  she 
poured  upon  her  friends,  that  she  had  been  "  all  eye,  all  ear, 
and  all  grasp,"  during  her  visit  to  Great  Britain.  The  Journal 
she  kept  of  her  travels,  was  a  feast  to  all  who  read  it.  Manners 
and  characters  in  an  old  and  highly  civilized  country,  contrasted 
with  those  to  which  she  had  been  accustomed  in  our  own,,  ac- 
companied with  many  curious  facts  and  anecdotes,  were  the 

my  blessed  Saviour,  so  that  whatever  time  it  may  be  before  yoa  see  this,  or 
whatever  weakness  I  may  be  under  on  my  deathbed,  be  assured  this  is  my 
faith  ;  this  is  my  hope  from  my  youth  up  until  now.  And  thus,  my  dear,  X 
takemy  final  leave  of  you.    Adieu,  forever.  ANNE  GRAEME-" 

Sept.  22,  1762. 

i9 


218  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

component  parts  of  this  interesting  manuscript.  Her  modesty 
alone  prevented  its  being  made  public,  and  thereby  affording  a 
specimen  to  the  world,  and  to  posterity,  of  her  happy  talents 
for  observation,  reflection,  and  composition. 

In  her  father's  family  she  now  occupied  the  place  of  her 
mother.  She  kept  his  house,  and  presided  at  his  table  and  fireside 
in  entertaining  all  his  company.  Such  was  the  character  of  Dr. 
Graeme's  family  for  hospitality  and  refinement  of  manners,  that 
all  strangers  of  note  who  visited  Philadelphia  were  introduced 
to  it.  Saturday  evenings  were  appropriated  for  many  years, 
during  Miss  Graeme's  winter  residence  in  the  city,  for  the  enter- 
tainment, not  only  of  strangers,  but  of  such  of  her  friends  of  both 
sexes  as  were  considered  the  most  suitable  company  for  them. 
These  evenings  were,  properly  speaking,  of  the  attic  kind.  The 
genius  of  Miss  Graeme  evolved  the  heat  and  light  that  animated 
them.  One  while  she  instructed  by  the  stores  of  knowledge 
contained  in  the  historians,  philosophers,  and  poets  of  ancient 
and  modern  nations,  which  she  called  forth  at  her  pleasure ;  and 
again  she  charmed  by  a  profusion  of  original  ideas,  collected  by 
her  vivid  and  widely  expanded  imagination,  and  combined  with 
exquisite  taste  and  judgment  into  an  endless  variety  of  elegant 
and  delightful  forms.  Upon  these  occasions  her  body  seemed 
to  evanish,  and  she  appeared  to  be  all  mind.  The  writer  of  this 
memoir  would  have  hesitated  in  giving  this  description  of  the 
luminous  displays  of  Miss  Grseme's  knowledge  and  eloquence 
at  these  intellectual  banquets,  did  he  not  know  there  are  several 
ladies  and  gentlemen  now  living  in  Philadelphia,  who  can 
testify  that  it  is  not  exaggerated, 

It  was  at  one  of  these  evening  parties  she  first  saw  Mr.  Hugh 
Henry  Ferguson,  a  handsome  and  accomplished  young  gentle- 
man  who  had  lately  arrived  in  this  country  from  Scotland. 
They  were  suddenly  pleased  with  each  other.  Private  inter- 
views soon  took  place  between  them,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few 
months  they  were  married.  The  inequality  of  their  ages,  (for 
he  was  ten  years  younger  than  Miss  Grasme,)  was  opposed,  in  a 
calculation  of  their  conjugal  happiness,  by  the  sameness  of  their 
attachment  to  books,  retirement,  and   literary  society.     They 


^  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  219 

settled  upon  the  estate  in  Montgomery  county,  which  Mrs.  Fer* 
gnson's  father,  who  died  at  an  advanced  age,  soon  after  her  mar- 
riage, bequeathed  to  her.  But  before  the  question  of  their 
happiness  could  be  decided  by  the  test  of  experiment,  the  dis- 
pute between  Great  Britain  and  America  took  place,  in  which 
it  became  necessary  for  Mr.  Ferguson  to  take  part.  He  joined 
the  former  in  the  year  1775,  and  from  that  time  a  perpetual 
separation  took  place  between  hipi  and  Mrs.  Ferguson.  Other 
causes  contributed  to  prevent  their  reunion  after  the  peace  of 
1783;  but  the  recital  of  them  would  be  uninteresting  as  well 
as  foreign  to  the  design  of  this  publication.  Mrs.  Ferguson 
passed  the  interval  between  the  year  1775  and  the  time  of  her 
death,  chiefly  in  the  country  upon  her  farm,  in  reading,  and  in 
the  different  branches  of  domestic  industry.  A  female  friend 
who  had  been  the  companion  of  her  youth,  and  whose  mind 
was  congenial  to  her  own,  united  her  destiny  with  hers,  and 
soothed  her  various  distresses  by  all  the  kind  and  affectionate 
offices  which  friendship  and  sympathy  could  dictate.  In  her 
retirement  she  was  eminently  useful.  The  doors  of  the  cot- 
tages that  were  in  her  neighborhood  bore  the  marks  of  her 
footsteps,  which  were  always  accompanied  or  followed  with 
clothing,  provisions,  or  medicines,  to  relieve  the  nakedness, 
hunger,  or  sickness  of  their  inhabitants.  During  the  time 
general  Howe  had  possession  of  Philadelphia,  she  sent  a  quan- 
tity of  linen  into  the  city,  spun  with  her  own  hands,  and  directed 
it  to  be  made  into  shirts  for  the  benefit  of  the  American  prisoners 
that  were  taken  at  the  battle  of  Germantown. 

Upon  hearing,  in  one  of  her  visits  to  Philadelphia,  that  a 
merchant,  once  affluent  in  his  circumstances,  was  suddenly 
thrown  into  gaol  by  his  creditors,  and  was  suffering  from  the 
want  of  many  of  the  usual  comforts  of  his  life,  she  sent  him  a 
bed,  and  afterwards  procured  admission  into  his  apartment,  and 
put  twenty  dollars  into  his  hands.  He  asked  for  the  name  of 
his  benefactor.  She  refused  to  make  herself  known  to  him, 
and  suddenly  left  him.  This  humane  and  charitable  act  would 
not  have  been  made  known,  had  not  the  gentleman's  description 
of  her  person  and  dress  discovered  it.     At  this  time  her  anny.al 


220  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

income  was  reduced  to  the  small  sum  of  one  hundred  and  sixty- 
dollars  a  year,  which  had  heen  saved  by  the  friendship  of  the 
late  Mr.  George  Meade,  out  of  the  wreck  of  her  estate.  Many 
such  secret  acts  of  charity,  exercised  at  the  expense  of  her  per- 
sonal and  habitual  comforts  might  be  mentioned.  They  will  all 
be  made  known  elsewhere.  In  these  acts  she  obeyed  the  gospel 
commandment  of  loving  her  neighbors  better  than  herself  Her 
sympathy  was  not  only  active,  but  passive  in  a  high  degree.  In 
the  extent  of  this  species  of  sensibility,  she  seemed  to  be  all  nerve. 
She  partook  of  the  minutest  sorrows  of  her  friends,  and  even  a 
newspaper  that  contained  a  detail  of  public  or  private  wo,  did 
not  pass  through  her  hands  without  being  bedewed  with  a  tear. 
Nor  did  her  sympathy  with  misery  end  here.  The  sufferings 
of  the  brute  creation  often  drew  sighs  from  her  bosom,  and  led 
her  to  express  a  hope  that  reparation  would  be  made  to  them 
for  those  sufferings  in  a  future  state  of  existence. 

I  have  said  that  Mrs.  Ferguson  possessed  a  talent  for  poetry. 
Some  of  her  verses  have  been  published,  and  many  of  them  are 
in  the  hands  of  her  friends.  They  discover  a  vigorous  poetical 
imagination,  but  the  want  of  a  poetical  ear.  This  will  not  sur- 
prise those  who  know  there  may  be  poetry  without  metre,  and 
metre  without  poetry. 

The  prose  writings  of  Mrs.  Ferguson  indicate  strong  marks 
of  genius,  taste,  and  knowledge.  Nothing  that  came  from  her 
pen  was  common.  Even  her  hasty  notes  to  her  friends  placed 
the  most  trivial  subjects  in  such  a  new  and  agreeable  light,  as 
not  only  secured  them  from  destruction,  but  gave  them  a  durable 
place  among  the  most  precious  fragments  of  fancy  and  sentiment. 

Mrs.  Ferguson  was  a  stranger  to  the  feelings  of  a  mother, 
for  she  had  no  children,  but  she  knew,  and  faithfully  performed 
all  the  duties  of  that  relation  to  the  son  and  daughter  of  one  of 
her  sisters,  who  committed  them  to  her  care  upon  her  deathbed. 
They  both  possessed  hereditary  talents  and  virtues.  Her  nephew, 
John  Young,  became  under  her  direction,  an  accomplished 
scholar  and  gentleman.  He  died  a  lieutenant  in  the  British 
army,  leaving  behind  him  a  record  of  his  industry  and  know- 
ledge, in  an  elegant  translation  of  d' Argent's  Ancient  Geography, 


'  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  221 

into  the  English  language.  A  copy  of  this  valuable  work  is  to 
be  seen  in  the  Philadelphia  Library,  with  a  tribute  to  the 
memory  of  the  translator,  by  Mrs.  Ferguson.*  The  mind  of  her 
niece,  Ann  Young,  was  an  elegant  impression  of  her  own ;  she 
married  Dr.  William  Smith,  of  Philadelphia,  and  lived  but  a 
few  years  afterwards.  She  left  a  son  and  daughter ;  the  latter 
followed  her  mother  prematurely  to  the  grave,  in  the  year  1808, 
in  the  thirtieth  year  of  her  age,  after  exhibiting  to  a  numerous  and 
affectionate  circle  of  acquaintances,  a  rare  instance  of  splendid 
talents  and  virtues,  descending  unimpaired  through  four  succes- 
sive generations. 

The  virtues  which  have  been  ascribed  to  Mrs.  Ferguson, 
were  not  altogether  the  effects  of  education,  nor  of  a  happy 
moral  texture  of  mind.  They  were  improved,  invigorated,  and 
directed  in  their  exercises  by  the  doctrines  and  precepts  of 
Christianity.  To  impress  the  contents  of  the  bible  more  deeply 
upon  her  mind,  she  transcribed  every  chapter  and  verse  in  it, 
and  hence  arose  the  facility  and  success  with  which  she  fre- 
quently selected  its  finest  historical  and  moral  passages  to  illus- 
trate or  adorn  the  subjects  of  her  writings  and  conversation. 

She  was  well  read  in  polemical  divinity,  and  a  firm  believer 
in  what  are  considered  the  mysteries  of  revelation.  Although 
educated  in  the  forms,  and  devoted  to  the  doctrines  of  the  church 
of  England,  she  worshipped  devoutly  with  other  sects,  when 
she  resided  among  them,  by  all  of  whom  she  was,  with  a  singular 
ananimity,  believed  to  be  a  sincere  and  pious  Christian. 

There  was  a  peculiarity  in  her  disposition,  which  would 
seem,  at  first  sight,  to  cast  a  shade  over  the  religious  part  of  her 
character.  After  the  reduction  of  her  income,  she  constantly 
refused  to  accept  of  the  least  pecuniary  assistance,  and  even  of 


*  A  singular  incident  laid  the  foundation  for  the  literary  acquirements  of 
this  young  gentleman.  Before  his  twelfth  year  he  was  an  idle  boy ;  about  that 
time,  his  aunt  locked  him  in  her  father's  library,  for  four  and  twenty  hours,  as 
a  punishment  for  some  offence.  In  this  situation,  he  picked  up  a  book  to  re- 
lieve himself  from  the  uneasiness  of  his  soUtude.  This  book  arrested  and 
fixed  his  attention.  He  read  it  through,  and  from  that  time  he  became 
devoted  to  books  and  study. 

19* 


222  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

a  present,  from  any  of  her  friends.  Let  those  persons  Avho  are 
disposed  to  ascribe  this  conduct  to  unchristian  pride,  recollect, 
there  is  a  great  difference  between  that  sense  of  poverty,  which 
is  induced  by  adverse  dispensations  of  providence,  and  that 
which  is  brought  on  by  voluntary  misconduct.  Mrs.  Ferguson 
conformed,  in  the  place  and  manner  of  her  living,  to  the  nar- 
rowness of  her  resources.  She  knew  no  want  that  could  make 
a  wise  or  good  woman  unhappy,  and  she  was  a  stranger  to  the 
"real  evil"  of  debt.  Her  charities,  moreover,  w^ould  not  have 
been  her  own,  had  they  been  replaced  by  the  charities  of  her 
friends. 

The  afflictions  of  this  excellent  woman,  from  all  the  causes 
that  have  been  mentioned,  did  not  fill  up  the  measure  of  her 
sufferings.  Her  passage  out  of  life  w^as  accompanied  with  great 
and  protracted  pain.  This  welcome  event  took  place  February 
23d,  1801,  in  the  sixty-second  year  of  her  age,  at  the  house 
of  Seneca  Lukins,  a  member  of  the  society  of  Friends,  near 
Graeme  Park.  Her  body  was  interred,  agreeably  to  her  re- 
quest, by  the  side  of  her  parents  in  the  enclosure  of  Christ 
Church,  in  Philadelphia. 

Should  this  attempt  to  rescue  the  name  and  character  of  this 
illustrious  woman  from  oblivion,  fall  into  the  hands  of  any  of 
those  who  have  been  accustomed  to  feel  an  elevation  of  soul  in 
contemplating  the  honor  which  Madame  Dacier,  Madame 
Sevigne,  Lady  Rachael  Russel,  and  Mrs.  Rowe,  have  conferred 
upon  their  respective  countries ;  let  them  exult  not  less  in  re- 
flecting, that  a  similar  honor  has  been  conferred  upon  the  United 
States,  by  the  singular  attainments  and  virtues  of  Mrs.  Elizabeth 
Ferguson. 

Catharine  Fisher.  The  biographers  of  this  lady,  appear 
to  have  been  ignorant  of  her  origin,  though  they  all  agree  in 
allowing  that  she  possessed  great  comprehension  of  mind,  and 
allowed  that  she  was  one  of  the  most  perfect  linguists  that 
adorned  the  sixteenth  century.  About  the  year  1559,  she  mar- 
ried Gualtherus  Gruter,  a  burgomaster  of  Antwerp,  by  whom 
she  had  one  son,  the  celebrated  James  Gruter,  whose  philosophi- 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  223 

cal  works  have  been  so  universally  admired.  In  the  early  part 
of  his  life  he  had  no  other  instructor  than  his  mother,  who  was 
perfect  mistress  both  of  Latin  and  Greek ;  and  to  her  has  been 
ascribed  his  fondness  for  study,  as  it  is  during  childhood  that  a 
bias  is  given  to  the  mind.  At  what  age  she  died  has  not  been 
specified,  but  the  year  her  biographers  believe  to  have  been  1579, 
the  time  when  her  son  left  the  university  at  Cambridge,  to  study 
at  Leyden ;  but  this  circumstance  is  not  positively  ascertained. 


Elizabeth  Fane,  author  of  several  pious  meditations  and 
proverbs  in  the  English  language,  which  were  printed  by 
Robert  Crowland,  with  this  title,  "  The  Lady  Elizabeth  Fane's 
Twenty-one  Psalms,  and  One  Hundred  and  Two  Proverbs, 
London,  1550."  Who  this  lady  was  it  is  not  easy  to  ascertain ; 
by  the  title  one  would  suppose  her  to  be  an  earl's  daughter,  but 
it  does  not  appear  from  Dugdale,  Collins,  or  any  other,  who  have 
given  the  peerage  of  the  Fane  family,  that  there  was,  or  in- 
deed, could  be,  any  such  lady  in  it,  near  the  time  she  is  supposed 
to  have  lived.  She  was,  therefore,  very  probably,  either  the 
wife  of  Richard  Fane,  who'  married  Elizabeth,  the  daughter 
and  heiress  of  Stidolph,  living  in  the  latter  end  of  the  reign  of 
Henry  VHL,  or  of  Sir  Thomas  Fane,  w^ho  was  engaged  in 
Wyatt's  rebellion,  in  the  first  year  of  Glueen  Mary. 


Sarah  Fielding,  the  third  sister  of  Henry  Fielding,  the 
celebrated  English  novelist,  was  born  in  1714,  lived  unmarried, 
and  died  at  Bath,  where  she  had  long  resided,  m  April,  1768. 
She  was  a  woman  of  literary  taste,  and  had  no  small  share  of 
her  brother's  talents  and  turn  for  works  of  the  imagination.  Her 
novels  made  some  noise  in  their  day,  but  her  last  work  was  the 
most  celebrated  ;  this  was  "  Xenophon's  Memoirs  of  Socrates, 
with  the  defence  of  Socrates  before  his  Judges,"  translated  from 
the  original  Greek,  1762,  8vo.  This  translation  is  executed 
with  taste  and  fidelity ;  a  learned  friend,  Mr.  Harris,  added  some 
excellent  notes  to  the  work.  A  monument  w^as  erected  to  her 
memory,  by  Dr.  John  Hoadly,  with  a  good  epitaph,  complimen- 
tary  to  her  virtues  and  talents. 


224  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Margaretta  V.  Faugeres,  a  woman  equally  distinguished 
for  her  talents  and  for  her  misfortunes,  was  the  daughter  of  Mrs. 
Ann  Eliza  Bleeker,  mentioned  in  this  volume,  was  born  1771. 
She  spent  the  first  years  of  her  life  in  the  village  of  Tombanick, 
about  eighteen  miles  from  Albany.   Her  mother  was  her  school- 
mistress, and  of  course,  the  instruction  she  received  was  of  the 
first  order.    She  began  to  versify  almost  in  her  cradle,  for  every 
thing  was  romantic  in  this  Vaucluse  which  they  inhabited.    Her 
first  sorrow  was  in  her  fifth  year,  when  her  mother  fled  with 
her  in  her  arms  from  the  dread  of  the  approach  of  Burgoyne's 
army.     She  lost  this  good  mother  when  she  was  only  twelve 
years  old.     But  she  still  continued  her  studies,  and  became  dis- 
tinguished in  the  fashionable  circles  as  a  well  educated  woman, 
when  she  first  came  into  society  in  the  city  of  New  York,  a  few 
years  after  the  war.     The  wealth  of  her  father,  and  the  literary 
fame  of  her  mother,  and  her  own  personal  charms,  made  her  a 
belle  of  the  first  order,  in  the  circles  of  taste  and  fashion.  Among 
other  admirers,   Doctor   Peter  Faugeres,  a  physician,  paid  his 
addresses  to  her,  and  was  most  favored  by  Margaretta.     He  was 
more  fashionable  than  some  others,  but  his  principles  had  been 
formed  by  the  school  of  French  philosophers,  and  he  had  an  air 
of  high  benevolence  and  of  disinterestedness ;  but  her  father  saw 
through  his  character,  and  remonstrated  against  the  union  of 
such  a  man  and  his  daughter.     Opposition  probably  strengthen- 
ed her  attachment,  and  she  married  Faugeres.     He  became  dis- 
sipated and  profligate,  and  squandered  her  fortune,  which  was 
considerable.   Her  father  died  in  1795  ;  after  which,  she  led  a  mi- 
serable life  with  the  author  of  her  misfortunes  ;  and  in  this  case, 
as  it  often  happens,  the  wretch  who  had  made  a  woman  miser- 
able, attempted  to  smother  a  recollection  of  his  bad  conduct  in 
vituperations  and  blasphemies.     But  he  was  not  long  suffered 
to  torture  the  innocent,  or  to  degrade  the  fallen ;    for  he  fell  a 
victim,  in  1798,  to  the  yellow  fever.     Soon  after  her  husband's 
death,  Mrs.  Faugeres  assisted  in  a  female  academy,  at  New 
Brunswick,  an  office  for  which  she  was  singularly  fitted.     Her 
affectionate  disposition,  her  high  attainments,  her  sense  of  duty, 
most  nobly  qualified  her  for  such  a  station ;  but  here  she  was 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  225 

not  destined  to  be  in  peace.  Her  misfortunes  and  mortifications 
had  penetrated  her  heart ;  and,  after  a  few  struggles,  she  found 
it  breaking,  and  then  composed  herself  to  die.  Religion  came 
to  her  comfort,  and  she  cast  a  sickly  look  upon  the  world,  and 
died  in  visions  of  happiness,  in  the  twenty-ninth  year  of  her  age. 
Parents  are  often  bleameably  severe,  but  children  are  more  often 
governed  by  passion  and  false  reasoning,  and  live  to  bewail  their 
errors,  when  repentance  is  vain,  and  hope  has  departed.  Mrs. 
Faugeres  published  tho  works  of  her  mother,  Mrs.  Bleeker,  and 
with  them  memoirs  of  her  own  life,  with  several  essays  from 
her  own  pen.  In  1796,  she  published  "  Bellisarius,"  a  tragedy, 
which  is  spoken  of  by  those  who  have  read  it,  as  containing 
some  fine  writing.  The  realities  of  life  exceed  the  dreams  of 
fancy,  or  the  creations  of  fiction.  A  list  of  those  who  disobeyed 
parental  authority  in  forming  matrimonal  connections,  might  be 
read  as  a  wholesome  lesson  to  cure  female  pertinacity ;  and,  per- 
haps, on  the  other  hand,  ambitious  and  short-sighted  parents, 
might  find  something  to  reflect  upon,  in  driving  their  daughters 
to  the  arms  of  wealthy  dulness,  or  avaricious  moroseness.  Rea- 
son, forbearance,  kindness,  yielding,  and!  a  knowledge  of  the 
human  heart,  are  all  necessary  to  make  judicious  selections  of 
husbands  or  wives.  The  following  lines  are  subjoined  as  a 
specimen  of  her  poetical  talents. 

THE  HUDSON. 

Nile's  beauteous  waves,  and  Tiber's  swelling  tide 

Have  been  recorded  by  the  hand  of  Fame, 
And  various  floods,  which  through  earth's  channels  glide 

From  some  enraptured  bard  have  gain'd  a  name; 
E'en  Thames  and  Wye  have  been  the  poet's  theme, 

And  to  their  charms  hath  many  a  harp  been  strung. 
Whilst,  Oh  !  hoar  genius  of  old  Hudson's  stream, 

Thy  mighty  river  never  hath  been  sung : 
Say,  shall  a  female  string  her  trembling  lyre. 

And  to  thy  praise  devote  the  adventurous  song  1 
Fired  with  the  theme,  her  genius  shall  aspire. 

And  the  notes  sweeten  as  they  float  along. 
Where  rough  Ontario's  restless  waters  roar, 
And  hoarsely  rave  around  the  rocky  shore ; 
Where  their  abode  tremendous  north-winds  make, 
And  reign  the  tyrants  of  the  surging  lake ; 


226  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

There,  as  the  shell- crown'd  genii  of  its  caves 
Toward  proud  Lawrence  urged  their  noisy  waves, 
A  form  majestic  from  the  flood  arose  ; 
A  coral  bandage  sparkled  o'er  his  brows, 
A  purple  mantle  o'er  his  hmbs  was  spread, 
And  sportive  breezes  in  his  dark  locks  played : 
Toward  the  east  shore  his  anxious  eyes  he  cast. 
And  from  his  ruby  lips  these  accents  pass'd: 
"O  favor'd  land  !  indulgent  nature  yields 
Her  choicest  sweets  to  deck  thy  boundless  fields ; 
Where  in  thy  verdant  glooms  the  fleet  deer  play, 
And  the  hale  tenants  of  the  desert  stray. 
While  the  tall  evergreens  that  edge  the  dale 
In  silent  majesty  nod  to  each  gale  : 
Thy  riches  shall  no  more  remain  unknown. 
Thy  wide  campaign  do  I  pronounce  my  own ; 
And  while  the  strong  arm'd  genii  of  this  lake 
Their  tributary  streams  to  Lawrence  take, 
Back  from  its  source  my  current  will  I  turn, 
And  o'er  thy  meadows  pour  my  copious  urn." 

He  said,  and,  waving  high  his  dripping  hand ; 
Bade  his  clear  waters  roll  toward  the  land. 
Glad  they  obey'd,  and  struggling  to  the  shore, 
Dash'd  on  its  broken  rocks  with  thundering  roar : 
The  rocks  in  vain  oppose  their  furious  course ; 
From  each  repulse  they  rise  with  tenfold  force ; 
And  gathering  all  their  angry  powers  again, 
Gushed  o'er  the  banks,  and  fled  across  the  plain. 
Soon  as  the  waves  had  pressed  the  level  mead. 

Full  many  a  pearly-footed  Naiad  fair, 
With  hasty  steps,  her  limped  fountain  led. 

To  swell  the  tide,  and  hail  it  welcome  there : 
Their  busy  hands  collect  a  thousand  flowers, 
And  scatter  them  along  the  grassy  shores. 
There,  bending  low,  the  water-lilies  bloom. 
And  the  blue  crocus  shed  their  moist  perfume ; 
There  the  tall  velvet  scarlet  lark-spur  laves 
Her  pale  green  stem  in  the  pellucid  waves ; 
There  nods  the  fragile  columbine,  so  fair, 
And  the  mild  dewy  wild-rose  scents  the  air; 
While  round  the  trunk  of  some  majestic  pine, 
The  blushing  honeysuckle's  branches  twine: 
There  too  Pomona's  richest  gifts  are  found, 
Her  golden  melons  press  the  fruitful  ground ; 
The  glossy  crimson  plums  there  swell  their  rinds, 
And  purple  grapes  dance  to  antumnal  winds ; 
While  all  beneath  the  mandrake's  fragrant  shade 
The  strawberry's  delicious  sweets  are  laid. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Through  many  a  "blooming  wild,"  and  woodland  green, 

The  Hudson's  sleeping  waters  winding  stray; 
Now  'mongst  the  hills  its  silvery  waves  are  seen, 

And  now  through  arching  willows  steal  away: 
Then  bursting  on  the  enamor'd  sight  once  more, 

Gladden  some  happy  peasant's  rude  retreat; 
And  passing  youthful  Troy's  commercial  shore, 

With  the  hoarse  Mohawk's  roaring  surges  meet. 
Oh,  beauteous  Mohawk!  'wildered  with  thy  charms. 

The  chilliest  heart  sinks  into  rapturous  glows  : 
While  the  stern  warrior,  used  to  loud  alarms. 

Starts  at  the  thunderings  of  thy  dread  Cohoes. 
Now  more  majestic  rolls  the  ample  tide, 

Tall  waving  elms  its  clovery  borders  shade, 
And  many  a  stately  dome,  in  ancient  pride. 

And  hoary  grandeur  there  exalts  its  head. 
There  trace  the  marks  of  culture's  sunburnt  hand. 

The  honeyed  buck- wheat's  clustering  blossoms  view, 
Dripping  rich  odors,  mark  the  beard-grain  bland, 

The  loaded  orchard,  and  the  flax  field  blue. 
Albania's  gothic  spires  now  greet  the  eye  ; 

Time's  hand  hath  wiped  their  burnished  tints  away, 
And  the  rich  fanes  which  sparkled  to  the  sky, 

'Reft  of  their  splendors,  mourn  in  cheerless  gray. 
There  many  an  ancient  structure  tottering  stands  ; 

Round  the  damp  chambers  mouldy  vapors  creep, 
And  feathery-footed  Silence  folds  her  hands, 

While  the  pale  genii  of  the  mansion  sleep. 
Yet  thither  Trade's  full  freighted  vessels  come; 

Thither  the  shepherds  mercantile  resort : 
There  Architecture  late  hath  raised  her  dome, 

And  Agriculture's  products  fill  her  port. 
The  grassy  hill,  the  quivering  poplar  grove. 

The  copse  of  hazle,  and  the  tufted  bank, 
The  long  green  valley,  where  the  white  flocks  rove  ; 

The  jutting  rock,  o'erbung  with  ivy  dank  ; 
The  tall  pines  waving  ^n  the  mountain's  brow, 

Whose  lofty  spires  catch  day's  last  lin;^ering  beam; 

The  bending  willow  weeping  o'er  the  stream. 
The  brook's  soft  gurglings,  and  the  garden's  glow. 

Low  sunk  between  the  Alleganian  hills. 
For  many  a  league  the  sullen  waters  glide, 
And  the  deep  murmur  of  the  crowded  tide. 

With  pleasing  awe  the  wandering  voyager  fills. 

On  the  green  summit  of  yon  lofty  clift 
A  peaceful  runnel  gurgles  clear  and  slow, 

Then  down  the  craggy  steep-side  dashing  swift, 
Tremendous  falls  in  the  white  surge  below. 


228  FEMALE    BIOORAFHY. 

Here  spreads  a  clovery  lawn  its  verdure  far, 

Around  it  mountains  vast  their  forests  rear, 
And  long  ere  day  hath  left  his  burnish'd  car, 

The  dews  of  night  have  shed  their  odors  there. 
There  hangs  a  lowering  rock  across  the  deep ; 

Hoarse  roar  the  waves  its  broken  base  around  ; 
Through  its  dark  caverns  noisy  whirlwinds  sweep, 

While  Horror  startles  at  the  fearful  sound. 
The  shivering  sails  that  cut  the  fluttering  breeze, 

Glide  through  these  winding  rocks  with  airy  sweep ; 
Beneath  the  cooling  glooms  of  waving  trees. 

And  sloping  pastures  speck'd  with  fleecy  sheep. 


MoDERATO  FoNTE,  a  Venetian  lady,  born  in  1555.  Though 
placed  in  a  monastery,  she  married,  and  after  twenty  years  of 
conjugal  happiness,  died  in  1592.  Her  memory  was  so  reten- 
tive, that  she  could  repeat,  verbatim,  a  discourse  when  only  once 
heard.  She  wrote  a  poem  called  "  II  Floridore,"  and  another 
on  "  The  Passion  and  Resurrection  of  Christ,"  besides,  "  De 
meriti  de  le  Donne,"  in  which  she  maintains  that  the  female  sex 
is  not  inferior  in  understanding  to  the  male. 


CiciLiA  Fleron,  the  third  daughter  of  Sir  Thomas  Moore, 
was  born  in  the  year  1510,  and,  with  the  rest  of  her  sisters,  re- 
ceived an  education  calculated  to  invigorate  the  powers  of  the 
mind.  In  the  annals  of  celebrated  females,  her  perfect  know- 
ledge of  the  Latin  language  is  mentioned.  She  corresponded  in 
Latin  with  the  celebrated  Erasmus. 


Eliza  Frothingham,  was  born  in  Newburyport,  a  seaport 
of  Massachusetts,  in  1792.  She  was  a  young  lady  of  talents, 
and  in  that  quiet  and  delightful  town,  received  a  good,  solid 
education,  with  a  share  of  ornamental  acquirements.  She  was 
desirous  of  gaining  knowledge,  and  made  no  ordinary  efforts  to 
obtain  it.  Her  father  died  in  1807,  just  as  she  was  leaving 
school,  and  left  his  family  in  easy  circumstances.  On  quitting 
school,  as  was  the  fashion  then,  when  a  girl  was  well  grown, 
she  pursued  a  course  of  rigid  self-instruction,  in  the  higher 
branches  of  learning.  In  the  town  of  her  nativity  were  proba- 
bly established  the  first  primary  and  infant  schools  that  can  be 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  229 

found  in  the  annals  of  instruction.  This  was  nearly  half  a 
century  since.  These  schools  were  under  the  direction  of  the 
school  committee,  and  were  kept  by  females.  The  Hon.  Jona- 
than Jackson,  and  the  Rev,  John  Murray,  were  instrumental  in 
getting-  the  town  to  establish  these  schools.  No  mention  was 
made  in  their  report,  of  the  existence  of  any  such  infant  schools 
in  Germany  or  elsewhere.*  The  institutions  were,  of  course, 

*  It  has  often  been  said  that  Germany  had  the  honor  of  first  establishing 
primary  schools ;  but  soon  after  the  peace  of  1783  there  were  four  schools 
established  in  Newburyport,  and  others  added  as  they  were  required.  There 
is  no  account  of  any  such  schools  in  Germany  or  France  until  a  much  later 
period.  The  writer  of  this  note  was  a  member  of  the  school  committee 
in  that  town  for  several  years,  and  is  well  acquainted  with  the  records  of  that 
body.  The  claim  of  Louise  Scheppler  to  the  honor  of  having  been  the  origi- 
nator of  these  schools  and  for  which  the  French  Acadamy  awarded  her  five 
thousand  franks  is  so  well  told  in  the  life  of  Cuvier  that  we  cannot  refrain 
from  inserting  it  here.   She  is  an  ornament  to  her  sex  and  deserves  her  fame. 

"Louise  Scheppler,  has,  perhaps,  carried  this  industrious  beneficence  still 
farther,  for  it  is  not  one  family,  it  is  an  entire  country  which  enjoys  the  fruits  of 
her  benevolence  ;  a  whole  country  which  has  been  vivified  by  the  charity  of  a 
poor  servant.  In  the  rudest  part  of  the  chain  of  the  Vosgcs  mountains  is  a 
valley,  almost  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  world.  Sixty  years  back  it 
afforded  but  scanty  nourishment  to  a  half-civilized  population,  consisting  of 
only  eighty  families,  distributed  in  five  villages.  Their  ignorance  and  their 
poverty  were  equally  great ;  they  neither  understood  German  nor  French  ;  a 
patois,  uninteUigible  to  any  but  themselves,  was  their  sole  language ;  and, 
what  is  scarcely  credible,  their  misery  had  not  softened  their  manners.  These 
peasants,  like  the  lords  of  the  middle  ages,  governed  by  force,  hereditary  feuds 
divided  famiUes,  and  more  than  once  gave  rise  to  acts  of  criminal  violence. 
A  pious  pastor,  named  John  Frederick  Oberlin,  who  has  since  become  so 
celebrated,  undertook  to  civilize  them ;  and  for  this  purpose,  like  one  who 
knew  mankind,  he  first  attacked  their  poverty.  With  his  own  hands  he  set 
the  example  for  all  useful  labors,  and,  armed  with  a  pickaxe,  he  directed  them 
in  the  construction  of  a  good  road,  digging  and  laboring  with  them ;  he 
taught  them  to  cultivate  the  potatoe ;  he  made  them  acquainted  with  good 
vegetables  and  fruits  ;  showed  them  how  to  ingraft,  and  gave  them  excellent 
breeds  of  cattle  and  poultry.  Their  agriculture  once  perfected,  he  introduced 
manufactures  among  them,  in  order  to  employ  superfluous  hands  ;  he  gave 
them  a  saving  bank,  and  put  them  in  communication  with  the  commercial 
houses  of  the  neighboring  towns.  As  their  confidence  increased  with  their 
improvement,  he,  by  degrees,  gave  them  instruction  of  a  higher  nature.  He 
himself  was  their  schoolmaster,  till  he  could  form  one  capable  of  seconding 
his  endeavors.  Having  once  learned  to  love  reading,  every  thing  became 
easier ;  chosen  works  were  brought  to  them  to  aid  the  conversation  and 
example  of  the  pastor;  religious  feelings,  and,  with  them,  mutual  benevo- 
lence, insinuated  themselves  into  their  hearts ;  quarrels,  crimes,  and  lawsuits 

20 


I 
230  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

confined  to  the  town,  the  limits  of  which  were  narrow ;  and  on 
its  borders,  there  were  children  who  could  not  share  the  advan- 
tages of  the  labors  of  these  female  instructors.  Seeing  this,  a 
few  pious  and  spirited  young  ladies  opened  schools  for  them  in 
several  places,  and  became  voluntary  teachers,  without  the 
slightest  reward,  except  the  consciousness  of  doing  good.  Miss 
Frothingham  was  among  the  most  diligent  of  these  teachers. 

disappeared :  and,  if  by  chance,  some  dispute  arose,  they,  with  one  accord, 
came  to  Oberlin,  and  begged  him  to  put  an  end  to  it.  In  short,  when  this 
venerable  man  was  nearly  at  the  end  of  his  career,  he  was  able  to  say,  that 
in  this  province,  once  so  poor  and  thinly  populated,  he  left  three  hundred 
families,  regular  in  their  habits,  pious  and  enlightened  in  their  sentiments, 
enjoying  remarkable  ease  of  circumstances,  and  provided  with  the  means  of 
perpetuating  these  blessings.  A  young  female  peasant,  from  one  of  these 
villages,  named  Louise  Scheppler,  though  scarcely  fifteen  years  of  age,  was 
so  forcibly  impressed  with  the  virtues  of  this  man  of  God,  that,  although  she 
enjoyed  a  small  patrimony,  she  begged  to  enter  into  his  service,  and  take  a 
part  in  his  charitable  labors.  From  that  time  she  never  accepted  any  wages; 
she  never  quitted  him  ;  she  became  his  help,  his  messenger,  and  the  guardian 
angel  of  the  rudest  huts.  She  afibrded  the  inhabitants  every  species  of  con- 
solation; and  in  no  instance  can  we  find  a  finer  example  of  the  power  of 
feeling  to  exalt  the  intelligence.  This  simple  village  girl  entered  into  the 
elevated  views  of  her  master,  even  astonishing  him  by  her  happy  sugges- 
tions, which  he  unhesitatingly  adopted  in  his  general  plan  of  operation. 
She  it  was  who  remarked  the  difficulty  that  the  laborers  in  the  fields 
experienced,  in  combining  their  agricultural  employments  with  the  care 
ef  their  younger  children,  and  who  thought  of  collecting  together,  even 
infants  of  the  earliest  age  in  spacious  halls,  where,  during  the  absence  of 
their  parents,  some  intelligent  instructresses  should  take  care  of,  amuse, 
teach  them  their  letters,  and  exercise  them  in  employments  adapted  to  their 
ages.  Prom  this  institution  of  Louise  Scheppler  arose  the  infant  schools  of 
England  and  France,  where  the  children  of  the  working  classes,  who  would 
otherwise  be  exposed  to  accidents  and  vicious  examples,  are  watched  over, 
instructed,  and  protected.  The  honor  of  an  idea  which  has  produced  such 
beautiful  results,  is  solely  due  to  this  poor  peasant  of  Ban  de  la  Roche  :  to 
this  she  consecrated  all  her  wordly  means,  and,  what  are  of  more  value,  her 
youth  and  her  health.  Even  now,  though  advanced  in  years,  she,  without 
receiving  the  smallest  compensation,  assembles  a  hundred  children  round 
her,  from  three  to  seven  years  of  age,  and  instructs  them  according  to  their 
capacities.  The  adults,  thanks  to  M.  Oberlin,  have  no  further  moral  wants; 
but  there  are  yet  some,  who  in  sickness  or  old  age,  have  need  of  physical  aid. 
Louise  Scheppler  watches  over  them,  carries  them  broth,  medicine,  in  short, 
every  thing,  not  forgetting  pecuniary  succor.  She  has  founded  and  regulated 
a  sort  of  Mont  de  Piete,  of  a  peculiar  kind,  which  would  be  an  admirable 
institution  elsewhere,  if  it  could  be  multiplied  like  the  infant  schools  ;  for  it  is 
among  the  very  small  number  of  those  which  merit  the  name  given  to  them, 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  231 

The  task  of  instruction  was  not  all ;  these  young  ladies  took 
great  pains  in  dressing  their  children  in  decent  apparel,  gene- 
rally made  from  garments  partly  worn,  that  had  been  given  them 
for  that  purpose.  Before  she  was  twenty  years  of  age,  she 
became  devoted  to  the  cause  of  religion,  and  seemed  to  take 
but  little  interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  world.  She  gave  up  all 
amusements,  but  never  discovered  the  slighest  marks  of  severity 
towards  others.  Those  whom  she  strove  in  vain  to  allure  from 
the  vanities  of  the  world,  had  her  entreaties  and  her  prayers, 
but  never  her  frowns.  She  looked  on  the  world  as  passing 
away,  and  not  worth  much  anxiety.  She  was  the  friend  of  the 
poor  at  all  times,  and  truly,  her  pity  gave,  ^ere  charity  began. 
There  was  no  parade  in  her  benevolence ;  she  gave  so  delicately, 
that  every  thing  from  her  hand  received  a  new  value,  from  the 
manner  of  bestowing.  She  entered  the  house  of  want  and  sick- 
ness, with  some  confidential  friend,  when  the  world  were  not 

for  money  is  there  lent  without  interest  and  without  securities.  When  M. 
Oberlin  died,  he,  by  will,  left  Louise  Scheppler  to  his  children  ;  the  simple 
words  of  a  dying  master  may  be  heard  with  interest,  and  will  be  more  elo- 
quent than  any  thing  we  can  add: — 'Heave  my  faithful  nurse  to  you,  my 
dear  children,  she  who  has  reared  you,  the  indefatigable  Louise  Scheppler ; 
to  you  also  she  has  been  a  careful  nurse,  to  you  a  faithful  mother  and  instruc- 
tress; in  short,  every  thing;  her  zeal  has  extended  still  farther;  for,  like  a 
true  apostle  of  the  Lord,  she  has  gone  to  the  villages  where  I  have  sent  her, 
to  gather  the  children  round  her,  to  instruct  them  in  the  will  of  God,  to  sing 
hymns,  to  show  them  the  works  of  their  all-powerful  and  paternal  Maker, 
to  pray  with  them,  to  communicate  to  them  all  the  instructions  she  had 
received  from  me  and  your  own  excellent  mother.  The  innumerable  difficul- 
ties she  met  with  in  these  holy  occupations  would  have  discouraged  a  thou- 
sand others ;  the  surly  tempers  of  the  children,  their  patois  language,  bad 
roads,  inclement  weather,  rocks,  water,  heavy  rain,  freezing  winds,  hail,  deep 
snow,  nothing  has  daunted  her.  She  has  sacrificed  her  time  and  her  person 
to  the  service  of  God,  Judge,  my  dear  children,  of  the  debt  you  have  con- 
tracted to  her  for  my  sake.  Once  more,  I  bequeath  her  to  you  ;  let  her  see, 
by  your  cares,  the  respect  you  feel  towards  the  last  will  of  a  father — I  am 
sure  you  will  fulfil  my  wishes,  you  will  in  your  turn,  be  to  her  altogether,  and 
each  individually,  that  which  she  has  been  to  you.'  Messieurs  and  Mesde- 
moiselles  Oberlin,  faithful  to  the  wishes  of  their  father,  were  desirous  of 
bestowing  on  Louise  the  inheritance  of  a  daughter :  but  nothing  could  induce 
this  generous  woman  to  lessen  the  small  patrimony  left  by  her  master;  and 
all  she  asked  was,  permission  to  add  the  name  of  Oberlin  to  her  own.  Those 
who  claim  this  honorable  appellation  as  a  birthright,  think  themselves  still 
further  honored  by  her  sharing  the  title." 


232  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

gazing,  and  literally  did  good  by  stealth.  When  she  found  her- 
self approaching  another  world,  her  serenity  was  not  disturbed ; 
all  was  calm  about  her  heart.  She  would  sit  and  gaze  on  the 
evening  star,  as  though  onward,  that  way,  she  was  soon  to  take 
flight.  At  such  times,  even  firm-nerved  philosophy  wished  to 
catch  a  glow  of  this  amiable  enthusiast,  but  could  not.  She  left 
the  world  without  a  sigh.  One  who  knew  her  well,  the  author 
of  "  Sketches  among  the  Tombs,"  thus  speaks  of  this  estimable 
young  woman : 

"  I  passed  from  this  grave  across  a  narrow  road,  to  a  field, 
which  had,  more  recently  than  the  other,  been  consecrated  for 
the  burial  of  the  dead.  I  remembered  the  spot  when  only  a  few 
bodies  had  been  deposited  in  it.  The  grave  digger's  spade  had 
vexed  the  bosom  of  the  earth  only  in  a  few  places,  when  I  was 
there  before,  and  it  had  then  nothing  of  that  sanctity  which  the 
fiill  congregation  of  the  dead  give  to  the  ground  in  which  they 
sleep.  It  was  now  thickly  peopled,  and  sod  touched  sod,  and 
numerous  monuments  were  clustered  together  in  melancholy 
closeness.  Affection  had  been  busy  in  tracing  the  sentiments  of 
regret  and  love  on  the  marble ;  but  strange  as  it  may  seem,  there 
are  but  few  epitaphs,  which  do  not  offend  taste,  as  yet  to  be  found 
in  our  cemeteries.  In  this  cluster,  one  stone  of  snowy  white- 
ness struck  my  sight.  It  was  erected  to  the  memory  of  one  I 
had  been  acquainted  with  in  former  days.  She  had  come  to  this 
abode  spotless  as  unsunned  snows.  It  was  a  fresh  grave ;  the 
sods  had  not  as  yet  become  so  connected  with  the  earth  beneath 
them,  as  to  give  life  to  the  vegetation  on  their  surface  ;  the  grass 
was  dry — it  had  withered  when  she  died  I  had  seen  some 
notice  of  the  decease  of  this  young  lady  in  the  papers  of  the 
day,  but  after  paying  her  memory  the  tribute  of  a  passing  sigh, 
I  had  forgotten  the  event,  with  other  occurrences  of  the  time. 
Now  a  chill  ran  through  my  frame,  and  her  death  come  upon 
me  as  something  I  had  just  heard  of  I  had  seen  her  when  she 
was  just  rising  on  the  horizon  of  life,  fresh  from  ihe  nursery  and 
the  school-room,  in  the  loveliness  of  fifteen.  She  had  taste, 
genius,  ambition,  and  industry,  and  was  anxious  to  be  accom- 
plished in  the  most  valuable  acquirements  of  literature.     I  had 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  233 

taken  no  little  pleasure  in  directing  such  a  delicate  mind  in  a 
course  of  reading.  I  had  seen  her  too,  when  that  mind  was 
more  matured,  and  she  was  diffusing  that  delight  in  every  circle 
in  which  she  moved,  which  always  flows  from  frankness,  intel- 
ligence, and  refinement.  Soon,  however,  a  religious  impression 
of  a  severe  and  gloomy  cast,  came  over  her,  and  she  saw  folly, 
if  not  sin,  in  the  common  amusements  of  society ;  but  still  she 
could  never  lose  her  magnanimity  and  forgiving  disposition. 
Plunged  into  the  active  scenes  of  life,  I  had,  for  several  years, 
lost  sight  of  this  young  lady  and  her  pursuits.  Such  are  the 
blossoms  of  early  friendship.  The  flowers  which  spring  from 
that  most  prolific  of  all  soils,  the  heart,  while  it  is  yet  unac- 
quainted with  the  world,  are  as  transitory  as  the  summer  cloud, 
and  the  tints  of  the  morning  rainbow.  The  cares  of  a  few 
years  in  the  world,  are  as  deadly  to  those  plants  which  come 
up  suddenly  in  the  youthful  bosom,  as  the  mighty  hand  of  the 
mountain-frost,  when  he  descends  upon  the  luxuriant  growth  of 
the  vale.  In  one  respect,  however,  the  simile  does  not  hold 
good,  for  the  natural  flower  becomes  loathsome  after  it  is  chilled 
to  death,  while  those  of  sentiment,  when  resuscitated,  like  the 
accidental  rose  leaves  which  fall  into  our  hands  from  a  favorite 
page  of  some  choice  volume,  which  has  for  a  long  time  remain- 
ed unopened,  retain  all  their  beauty  of  color  and  sweetness  of 
perfume.  I  gazed  upon  the  grave  until  a  thousand  pleasing 
images  flitted  across  my  mind,  and  there  was  not  a  spectre 
amongst  them  all ;  nothing  less  pure  than  the  sainted  shade  of 
her  whose  narrow  bed  I  was  now  contemplating.  The  twilight 
had  now  come  on ;  the  moon  was  rising  in  beauty  and  majesty, 
and  the  stars,  one  after  another,  were  making  their  appearance. 
The  dead  of  all  times,  in  this  lonely  hour,  seemed  to  gather 
round  me,  and  converse  with  me,  as  if  I  had  passed  the  verge 
of  time,  and  was  treading  on  the  confines  of  eternity.  There 
came  a  voice  on  the  soft  breeze,  which  said,  or  seemed  to  say, 
*'  Proud  moralist,  what  avails  your  philosophy  at  such  an  hour 
as  this  ?  Come  learn  how  to  die  in  this  assembly  of  the  dead ; 
the  dissolution  of  nature  is  not  so  dreadful  as  your  imagination 

paints  it ;  the  bosom  of  our  mother  earth  is  not  so  cold  as  you 

20* 


234  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

think  it ;  the  fork  of  the  poor  worm  is  not  so  sharp  as  it  appears ; 
nor  do  the  chilly  clods  which  so  trouble  you,  press  half  so  heavi- 
ly on  the  breasts  of  those  who  rest  in  faith  as  they  seem  to  you 
to  press.  God  is  in  the  grave  as  well  as  on  the  earth.  He 
walks  here  as  he  did  in  the  cool  of  the  day  in  the  garden  he 
first  created ;  he  is  as  familiar  with  the  chambers  of  death,  as 
with  the  palaces  of  the  living ;  all  are  in  his  hands."  The  re- 
verie passed  away.  There  is  a  sympathy  between  the  living 
and  the  dead,  which,  at  times,  more  than  all  the  reasoning  in  the 
world,  convinces  us  of  the  immortality  of  our  souls.  It  is  im- 
possible, that  an  all  wise  and  all  powerful  God  should  have 
created  this  sympathy  between  kindred  spirits,  on  this  and  the 
other  side  of  the  grave,  and  yet  mock  us  by  destroying  all  these 
"immortal  longings  within  us,"  by  annihilation.  Who  can 
believe,  that  at  the  tomb,  even  the  sceptic  and  the  pretended  infi- 
del can  question  the  doctrines  of  revelation  ?  I  recovered  from 
this  state  of  mind,  in  a  degree,  and  left  this  silent  colony  of 
death,  to  teach  others  as  well  as  myself,  who  dare  to  read  the 
lectures  of  the  grave,  how  short,  how  uncertain,  is  human  life ; 
what  a  vapor  is  mortal  existence,  and  how  easily  it  is  blown 
away.  To  leave  the  dead  without  a  memorial,  is  want  of  affec- 
tion ;  not  to  read  that  memorial,  as  a  memento  mori,  is  stupidity ; 
and  to  read  it  to  no  salutary  purpose,  is  that  blindness  and  folly 
which  lead  down  to  the  chambers  of  darkness  and  despair. 
Every  tomb  stone  has  a  tongue,  which  repeats  in  more  than  mor-' 
tal  accents  to  the  living,  the  words  of  the  shade  of  the  prophet 
to  the  monarch  of  Israel — "  to-morrow  thou  shalt  he  with  mc." 


Elizabeth  Gray,  wife  of  a  distinguished  merchant,  Wil- 
liam Gray,  was  the  daughter  of  John  Chipman,  a  lawyer  of 
eminence,  in  Marblehead,  in  the  county  of  Essex,  and  common- 
wealth of  Massachusetts.  She  was  born  in  May,  1756,  and  was 
married  to  William  Gray,  in  1782,  then  doing  business  in  Salem, 
in  the  same  county.  Mrs.  Gray's  father  died  suddenly,  while 
arguing  a  cause  in  court  at  Portland.  She  was  a  woman  of  fine 
personal  appearance,  and  had  received  a  good  solid  education ; 
and  it.  was.  acknowledged  on  all  hands,  that  she  was  a  woman 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  235 

of  most  excellent  powers  of  understanding.  She  was  a  very- 
domestic  woman,  and  while  her  husband  was  considered  the 
wealthiest  merchant  in  New  England,  she  managed  her  house- 
hold affairs  with  great  economy  and  regularity.  She  was  quiet- 
ly and  silently  doing  good  to  the  poor,  in  the  way  which  was 
most  agreeable  to  her  disposition.  She  impressed  upon  her  chil- 
dren the  habits  and  principles  of  economy,  and  never  forgot 
those  principles  in  the  possession  of  immense  wealth.  She  was 
for  many  years  a  member  of  Dr.  Prince's  church  in  Salem,  but 
when  the  family  moved  to  Boston,  she  became  attached  to  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Wisner's  church,  where  she  was  an  exemplary  mem- 
ber. There  was  nothing  gloomy  in  her  religion,  it  was  one  of 
cheerfulness  and  hope,  among  many  who  were  severe  and  me- 
lancholy. She  divided  her  time  between  reading,  household 
affairs,  and  duties  to  society,  in  such  a  manner,  as  never  for 
a  moment  to  be  in  a  hurry.  She  had  a  fine  constitution,  and 
seldom  suffered  much  from  indisposition.  She  reared  five  sons 
and  one  daughter  with  exemplary  maternal  tenderness  and  con- 
stancy. She  died,  after  a  few  days  illness,  on  the  twenty-fourth 
of  September,  1823.  Her  husband  was  then  living.  The  vir- 
tues of  Mrs.  Gray,  were  known  to  all  her  friends,  and  she  was 
)  often  consulted  on  important  matters ;  but  the  most  remarkable 
trait  in  her  character,  was,  always  acting  in  her  important  situ- 
ation in  such  a  way,  that  no  evil  precedents  of  expense  could 
arise  from  her  example.  Her  carriage  was  plain,  and  her  ser- 
vants were  well  dressed,  decent  men,  without  any  extraordinary 
show  about  them.  Her  talents  would  have  commanded  respect 
in  the  common  walks  of  life,  but  of  course,  had  a  much  wider 
influence  in  the  high  sphere  in  which  she  moved. 


Isabella  Graham  was  born  in  Scotland,  on  the  twenty- 
ninth  of  July,  1742;  her  maiden  name  was  Marshall.  She 
married  Doctor  John  Graham,  an  army  surgeon,  in  1765,  and 
who  came  with  his  regiment  to  this  country,  previous  to  the  re- 
volutionary war,  and  from  the  continent  went  to  Antigua,  where 
he  died  in  1774.  His  widow  came  to  New  York  in  1789,  about 
the  time  the  federal  constitution  went  into   operation.      Here 


236  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

she  opened  a  school  for  young  ladies,  and  for  a  long  time  she 
had  hardly  a  rival  in  her  profession.  She  was  popular  for  her 
intelligence  and  for  her  piety.  She  was  an  active,  enterprising 
woman,  and  successfally  devised  many  liberal  things;  such 
as  a  widows'  society,  an  orphans'  society,  and  a  society  for  the 
promotion  of  industry.  She  was  a  woman  of  a  strong  mind, 
and  had  a  clear  view  of  religion  and  its  utility,  as  it  regarded 
the  society  in  which  she  was  placed.  The  celebrated  Doctor 
Mason  published  a  memoir  of  her  life ;  for  he  considered  her  a 
mother  in  Israel,  who  had  lived  to  a  good  old  age,  and  was 
blessed  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation  in  her  life  time.  Such 
founders  and  patrons  of  benevolent  institutions  deserve  to  be 
held  in  remembrance,  not  for  themselves  alone,  but  for  the  exam- 
ples they  afford  to  society.  The  account  of  her  moral  and  reli- 
gious discipline  will  have  an  effect  on  oui  community  for  ages  to 
come ;  and  thousands,  from  the  associations  which  she  founded, 
will  call  her  blessed  in  all  future  times.  The  only  way  mortals 
can  make  themselves  immortal,  is  by  doing  some  permanent 
good  to  mankind.  The  splendid  things  of  the  day  have  only 
the  perfume  of  an  hour,  and  even  the  monuments  of  art  in  time 
decay,  but  such  charities  stay  long  to  bless  us,  and  when  by  some 
chance  they  are  no  longer  useful,  their  very  name  and  praise 
reproduce  their  kind.  The  praise  of  "  The  Man  of  Ross,"  has 
stimulated  thousands  to  deeds  of  charity,  and  will,  as  long  as 
poetry  has  a  place  in  the  minds  of  men.  A  habit  may  have  its 
influence,  but  a  deed  is  never  forgotten.  We  see  our  institu- 
tions of  benevolence  flourishing  around  us,  Avithout  reflecting 
how  much  expenditure  of  good  feeling  and  charitable  means 
they  have  cost.  Political  and  civil  institutions  are  the  growth 
of  time  and  necessity ;  while  those  of  philanthropy  are  matters 
of  more  than  ordinary  exertions  of  individuals.  Heaven  has 
wisely  planted  a  disposition  in  the  human  mind  to  regard  the 
interests  of  those  who  may  come  after  us,  as  well  as  to  reverence 
those  who  have  preceeded  us.  The  descendants  of  Mrs.  Graham 
are  among  the  most  respectable  people  of  the  state.  The  man- 
tle of  Mrs.  Graham  has  fallen  on  her  daughter,  Mrs.  Bethune, 
who  has  worn  it  with  the  same  active  .spirit,  the  same  untiring 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  237 

sense  of  duty,  and  the  same  pure  religious  feeling.  She  has  heen 
as  much  known  as  her  mother,  and  may  she  find  among  her 
friends,  when  she  shall  be  no  more,  as  splendid  and  zealous  a 
eulogist,  as  good  Mrs.  Graham  did,  in  the  learned  and  impas- 
sioned Mason.  I  should  have  been  more  minute  in  the  sketch 
of  this  character,  had  I  not  known  that  many  have  written  her 
life,  and  spread  it  far,  and  almost,  I  might  say,  throughout  Chris- 
tendom. 


Grace  Gethin,  an  English  lady  of  excellent  talents,  was  the 
daughter  of  Sir  George  Norton,  of  Abbots- Leigh,  in  Somerset- 
shire, and  born  in  1676.  She  had  all  the  advantages  of  a  liberal 
education,  and  became  the  wife  of  Sir  Richard  Gethin,  of  Gethin- 
Grott,  in  Ireland,  She  was  mistress  of  great  accomplishments, 
natural  and  acquired,  but  did  not  live  long  enough  to  display 
them  to  the  world,  for  she  died  in  her  twenty-first  year,  October 
11th,  1697.  She  was  not  buried  in  Westminster- Abbey,  but  a 
beautiful  monument  was  erected  to  her  memory  in  that  cemetery 
of  the  mighty  dead,  with  an  elegant  inscription  commemorating 
her  virtues  and  talents.  Provision  was  made  for  a  sermon  to 
be  preached  in  the  Abbey  yearly,  on  Ash- Wednesday  forever. 
The  remains  of  her  literary  labors  were  collected  and  printed. 
She  was  meek,  candid,  pious,  and  lovely.  Some  of  the  sermons 
on  her  memory  contain  some  excellent  observations  on  the 
female  character,  as  well  as  encomiums  on  herself 


Eleanora  Galligai,  the  wife  of  Concini,  Marshal  d'Ancre, 
was  daughter  of  a  joiner  and  washer- woman,  in  Italy.  She  was 
foster  sister  to  Mary  of  Medicis,  who  loved  her,  and  to  this  was 
owing  her  greatness  and  misfortunes.  She  came  to  France,  and 
although  her  features  were  plain,  and  even  disgusting,  she  mar- 
ried Concini,  but  did  not  show  that  moderation  which  her  great 
powers  of  mind  seemed  to  promise.  Haughty  and  imperious, 
her  conduct  soon  gave  offence  to  Louis  XIII.,  the  son  of  her 
partial  mistress,  who  caused  her  husband  to  be  assassinated,  and 
herself  to  be  brought  to  trial,  though  no  crime  but  that  of  being 
a  favorite  could  be  brought  against  her.     She  was  charged  with 


238  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

sorcery ;  and  when  questioned  by  what  magic  she  had  so  fas- 
cinated her  mistress,  she  made  this  well  known  answer,  "  By 
that  power  which  strong  minds  naturally  possess  over  the  weak." 
She  was  condemned  in  1617,  and  executed. 


Lady  Jane  Gray,  eldest  daughter  of  Henry  Gray,  marquis 
of  Dorset,  and  duke  of  Suffolk,  was  not  more  distinguished  for 
her  illustrious  descent,  than  for  her  endowments,  her  virtues, 
and  unhappy  destiny.  On  the  side  of  her  mother  she  was  allied 
to  the  royal  house  of  Tudor. 

Jane,  lovely  in  her  person,  gentle,  modest,  and  amiable  in  her 
temper,  endowed  with  a  superior  capacity,  and  powers  of  appli- 
cation uncommon  for  her  sex  and  age,  was  educated  with  the 
young  king,  Edward  VI.,  whom  she  emulated,  and  even  sur- 
passed, in  every  liberal  attainment.  She  had  at  a  very  early 
age  applied  herself  to  the  acquisition  of  the  Greek,  the  Roman, 
the  Arabic,  the  Chaldee,  with  the  French  and  Italian  languages, 
and  was  conversant  both  with  ancient  and  modern  literature. 
She  devoted  herself  more  peculiarly  to  the  study  of  philosophy, 
of  which  she  became  enamored ;  nor  was  she  unacquainted 
with  the  sciences  and  arts.  She  wrote  a  fine  hand,  was  mis- 
tress of  music,  and  excelled  in  the  customary  avocations  of  her 
sex.  The  theological  controversies  of  the  times  also,  peculiarly 
engaged  her  attention.  She  possessed  great  sensibility  of  temper, 
with  a  devotional  turn  of  mind,  and  had,  on  investigation, 
imbibed  the  principles  of  the  reformation. 

The  predilection  of  the  lady  Jane  for  learning  and  philosophy, 
is  attested  by  Roger  Ascham,  tutor  to  the  princess  Elizabeth, 
who,  calling  at  Brodegate,  in  Leicestershire,  previous  to  his 
quitting  England,  to  take  leave  of  the  family  of  the  duke  of 
Suffolk,  found  Jane,  while  her  parents  with  their  household 
were  hunting  in  the  park,  deeply  engaged  in  the  perusal  of 
Plato's  "  Phaedon,"  in  which  she  appeared  to  take  peculiar  delight. 
Mr.  Ascham  inquired  why  she  lost,  in  studies  so  grave,  the 
pastime  going  forward  in  the  park.  She  answered,  smilingly, 
because  she  found  in  reading  Plato  a  pleasure  of  more  exquisite 
nature  than  hunting  could  have  afforded  to  her. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  239 

Her  talents  and  sweetness  of  manners  endeared  her  to  the 
young  king,  and  induced  him  to  yield  with  the  greater  facility 
to  the  projects  of  her  father,  and  of  the  duke  of  Northumber- 
land, whose  fourth  son,   Lord  Guilford  Dudley,  espoused  the 
Lady  Jane  in  May,  1553,  two  months  previous  to  the  decease  of 
Edward.     Northumberland  represented  to  the  young  monarch, 
who,  weakened  by  the  infirm  state  of  his  health,  was  susceptible 
to  every  impression,  that  his  sisters,  Mary  and  Elizabeth,  had 
both  been  declared  illegitimate  by  parliament,  and  that  though 
Henry  by  his  will  had  restored  them  to  the  succession,  their 
birth  yet  rendered  them  obnoxious  to  the  people ;  that  they  were 
but  his  half  sisters,  and,  even  if  legitimate,  could  not  possess  the 
crown  as  his  heirs.      He  added,  that  the  queen  of  Scots  was 
excluded  by  the  will  of  the  late  king,  that  she  was  also  an  alien 
by  law,  not  to  mention  that  being  betrothed  to  the  dauphin  of 
France,  the  kingdom  would,  by  her  succession,  become  a  French 
province.    That  the  abolition  of  the  protestant  religion,  to  which 
Edward  was  zealously  attached,  the  repeal  of  the  laws  in  its 
favor,  and  the  re-establishment  of  the  Roman  superstition,  would 
necessarily  follow  either  the  reign  of  the  queen  of  Scots,  or  of 
the  princess  Mary  his  sister;  that  both  justice  and  interest  re- 
quired their  exclusion,  in  which  case,  the  succession  devolved 
on  the  duchess  of  Suffolk,  whose  heir,  the  lady  Jane,  was  fitted 
to  adorn  a  throne,  and  to  establish  the  happiness  of  the  nation. 

These  reasonings,  could  not  fail  to  move  a  young  prince  in 
the  situation  of  Edward,  whose  predilection  for  the  protestants, 
made  him  tremble  at  the  idea  of  devolving  the  crown  to  Mary, 
a  bigoted  catholic  ;  while  his  tend-""  affection  for  Elizabeth  yield- 
ed to  the  persuasion,  that  to  exc\uae  one  sister  and  admit  the 
claims  of  another,  would  be  considered  as  unkind  and  unjust. 

Edward,  having  given  his  consent  to  the  projected  settlement, 
it  was  in  vain  that  the  chief  justice,  the  judges,  and  the  great 
officers  started  difficulties  and  multiplied  objections ;  threats, 
persuasions,  and  intrigues,  overruled  their  resistance.  Mary  and 
Elizabeth  being  thus  set  aside,  the  crown  was  settled  on  the 
heirs  of  the  duchess  of  Suffolk,  who  was  content  to  resign  her 
rights  in  favor  of  her  daughter.     On  the  sixth  of  July,  1553, 


240  '  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Edward  expired  at  Greenwich,  in  the  sixteenth  year  of  his  age, 
and  seventh  of  his  reign. 

Jane,  humble  and  unambitious,  absorbedln  her  studies,  her 
mind  devoted  to  elegant  literature,  and  her  heart  full  of  tender- 
ness toward  her  husband,  whose  merit  justified  her  affection, 
received  from  her  father  in  law  the  tidings  of  her  advancement 
with  equal  astonishment,  terror,  and  grief  Rejecting  the  splen- 
did destiny  which  courted  her  acceptance,  she  pleaded  the  pre- 
ferable right  of  the  princesses,  while  she  declared  that  her  prin- 
ciples would  not  suffer  her  to  avail  herself  of  the  honors  prof- 
fered to  her.  Having  reminded  her  friends  of  the  danger  of 
public  eminence,  and  the  instability  of  human  affairs,  she  con- 
cluded with  an  earnest  expression  of  her  preference  to  the  safety 
and  freedom  of  a  private  station.  But  vain  was  her  opposition 
to  the  ambition  of  the  duchess.  Her  mother,  her  husband,  whose 
persuasions  the  sensibility  of  her  heart  rendered  too  efficacious, 
joined  to  importune  her ;  overpowered  by  their  solicitude,  and 
their  united  influence  and  authority,  which  she  had  been  unac- 
customed to  resist,  she  at  length  yielded  a  reluctant  consent, 
and  sacrificed  to  her  family  her  inclinations  and  her  judgment. 

Jane  having  been  conveyed  by  Northumberland  to  the  tower, 
where  it  was  customary  for  the  sovereigns  of  England  to  pass 
the  first  days  of  their  accession,  orders  were  given  to  the  coun- 
cil to  proclaim  throughout  the  kingdom  the  daughter  of  the 
duchess  of  Suffolk.  These  commands  were,  however,  executed 
but  in  London  and  its  environs,  where  the  proclamation  was  re- 
ceived with  coldness,  silence,  and  concern,  and  even  in  some 
instances  with  contempt  and  scorn.  The  protestant  preachers 
exerted  without  success  their  eloquence  in  favor  of  the  young 
queen ;  no  effect  was  produced  on  the  audience.  The  people, 
prejudiced  in  favor  of  hereditary  succession,  flocked  to  Mary, 
the  rightful  heir,  who,  by  courteous  assurance  and  fair  promises, 
allayed  their  apprehension  for  the  protestants  religion. 

Northumberland,  perceiving  his  army  too  weak  to  encounter 
that  of  Mary,  importuned  the  council  for  a  reinforcement ;  who, 
availing  themselves  of  the  pretence,  left  the  tower,  as  if  to 
execute  his  demands.     Having  deliberated  on  the  paths  they 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  241 

should  pursue,  they  quickly  persuaded  themselves,  that  one  me- 
thod only  remained  for  atoning  for  the  conduct  into  which  they 
had  been  betrayed,  a  prompt  return  to  the  rightful  heir.  The 
people  expressed  their  approbation  by  shouts  of  applause  ;  even 
Suffolk,  who  commanded  in  the  tower,  finding  resistance  vain, 
opened  the  gates,  and  declared  for  Mary.  Jane  resigned  with 
cheerfulness  the  pageantry  with  which  she  had  been  invested, 
declaring  at  the  same  time,  that  she  returned  to  a  private  station 
with  far  greater  pleasure  than  she  had  quitted  it ;  she  was  con- 
vinced, she  added,  that  she  had  been  guilty  of  a  fault  in  resign- 
ing her  principles  to  authority,  but  that,  in  her  present  resigna- 
tion, her  inclinations  and  judgment  perfectly  accorded. 

Northumberland,  deserted  by  his  followers,  and  despairing  of 
success,  joined  in  the  general  voice  in  favor  of  Mary,  with  those 
external  marks  of  satisfaction,  which  courtiers,  when  their  inter- 
ests are  at  stake,  so  well  know  how  to  assume.  His  duplicity, 
however,  availed  him  little,  he  was  taken  into  custody  by  orders 
from  the  queen ;  when,  not  less  abject  in  distress  than  arrogant 
in  prosperity,  he  fell  on  his  knees,  and  supplicated  for  his  life. 
He  was  afterwards  executed,  and  on  the  scaffold,  professed  the 
catholic  religion.  His  sons,  and  several  other  noblemen,  were 
also  seized,  and  secured ;  Avhile  the  duke  of  SufTolk,  his  daugh- 
ter, the  Lady  Jane,  with  her  husband  Lord  Guilford  Dudley, 
were,  as  prisoners,  committed  to  the  tower. 

Though  sentence  had  been  passed  against  the  La:dy  Jane  and 
Lord  Guilford,  who  had  neither  attained  their  seventeenth  year, 
no  intention  appeared  of  putting  it  in  execution,  so  powerfully 
did  their  youth  plead  in  their  behalf  But  the  imprudence  of 
Suffolk,  not  long  after,  precipitated  theirs  and  his  own  fate.  A 
rebellion,  originating  in  the  religious  discontents  of  the  nation, 
who  were  exposed  to  persecution  from  the  bigotry  of  the  queen, 
having  broken  out,  headed  by  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt,  Suffolk  with 
a  view  of  recovering  the  crown  for  his  family,  joined  the  insur- 
gents. His  guilt  and  ingratitude  were  imputed  to  his  children, 
whom  the  queen,  with  a  narrow  mind,  incapable  of  distinguish- 
ing, or  of  real  generosity,   determined  to  sacrifice  to  her  ven-* 

geance  and  her  fears. 

21 


242  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Warning  was  accordingly  given  to  the  Lady  Jane  to  prepare 
for  death ;  a  doom,  which  the  innocence  of  her  life,  and  the 
misfortunes  to  which  it  was  exposed,  rendered  but  little  formida- 
ble to  her  pious  and  reflecting  mind.  The  queen,  under  an  ab- 
surd pretence  of  care  for  the  salvation  of  her  victims,  harrassed 
the  remnant  of  their  lives,  with  tiresome  disputations.  Priests, 
the  most  celebrated  for  their  learning  and  acuteness,  were  com- 
missioned to  exhort  the  Lady  Jane  to  a  change  in  her  faith. 
For  this  important  purpose,  even  three  days  reprieve  were  gra- 
ciously allowed.  Neither  arguments,  flatteries,  threats,  nor  pro- 
mises, were  spared  to  shake  the  firmness  of  the  youthful  heroine, 
whose  courage  baffled  the  attacks  of  persecutors.  Having  de- 
fended her  opinions  with  ability  and  resolution,  she  addressed  a 
letter  to  her  sister,  in  the  Greek  language,  accompanied  by  a 
copy  of  the  scriptures,  and  an  exhortation  to  maintain,  in  every 
trial,  that  fortitude  and  perseverance  of  which  she  trusted  to 
give  her  the  example.  In  the  bloom  and  spring  of  life,  she  con- 
templated the  approach  of  death  with  a  true  philosophical 
equanimity. 

Her  execution  was  announced  to  her  by  Feckenham,  the 
queen's  chaplain,  who  was  commissioned  to  offer  to  her  at  the 
same  time,  a  reconciliation  with  the  church  of  Rome.  To  the 
first  part  of  his  mission  she  listened  without  emotion,  in  reply 
to  the  latter,  she  told  him  she  had  no  leisure  for  further  contro- 
versy, but  should  devote  the  short  remainder  of  her  time  to  a 
preparation  for  her  fate.  On  being  informed  by  him,  that  three 
days  respite  had  been  granted  to  her,  for  the  purpose  of  endeav- 
oring to  procure  her  conversion,  she  answered,  "that  her 
meaning  had  been  misunderstood,  that  she  desired  not  her  life 
to  be  protracted,  neither  had  she  wished  the  queen  to  be  solicited 
for  such  a  purpose."  The  chaplain  proceeding  to  press  her  on 
religious  difference,  she  discussed  with  him  her  objections  to 
the  doctrine  and  authority  of  the  Romish  church.  The  part 
which  Jane  sustained  in  this  conference  is  highly  commended 
by  Bishop  Burnet,  and  other  ecclesiastical  historians. 

She  wrote  several  letters  during  her  captivity,  among  which, 
was  one  more  particularly  mentioned  by  historians,  addressed 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  243 

to  Doctor  Hardington  her  father's  chaplain,  who  had  apostatized 
from  his  religion;  and  whom  she  exhorted,  in  an  earnest  and 
pathetic  strain,  citing  from  the  scriptures  and  from  church  his- 
tory, many  passages  in  support  of  her  purpose,  to  prefer  his 
conscience  to  his  safety.  Bishop  Burnet  mentions  having  in 
his  possession  two  Latin  letters  of  the  Lady  Jane,  written  in  a 
chaste  and  simple  style,  and  addressed  to  BuUinger,  with  whom 
she  was  entering  on  the  study  of  the  Hebrew^  and  for  whom,  in 
a  strain  of  modesty  and  piety,  she  expresses  great  respect  and 
deference.  These  letters,  with  two  other  Latin  epistles,  were 
printed ;  one  of  them  is  addressed  to  Bullinger,  the  other  to  her 
sister,  the  Lady  Katherine  Gray ;  they  abound  in  pious  exhor- 
tations and  affectionate  expressions,  and  were  written  the  night 
before  her  execution,  on  some  blank  leaves  of  her  Greek  testa- 
ment, which  she  had  been  previously  perusing.  She  also  com- 
posed for  her  own  use  a  long  prayer,  full  of  ardent  expressions 
of  devotion. 

The  evening  before  her  death,  she  was  again  persecuted  by 
bishops  and  priests,  with  arguments  and  persuasions  to  die  in 
obedience  to  the  true  church ;  but  finding  all  their  importuni- 
ties fruitless,  they  at  length  quitted  her,  as  a  lost  and  forsaken 
member. 

Her  husband,  on  the  day  of  their  execution,  entreated  to  be 
allowed  a  last  interview  with  his  wife ;  this  she  declined,  alledg- 
ing  as  her  motive,  that  the  tenderness  of  their  parting  would 
overcome  the  fortitude  of  both,  and  incapacitate  their  minds  for 
the  constancy  and  courage  demanded  by  their  approaching  fate. 
Their  separation,  she  added,  was  but  for  a  moment,  when  they 
should  re-unite  never  more  to  part,  in  scenes  where  neither  dis- 
appointment, misfortune,  nor  death  would  disturb  their  felicity. 
It  had  been  intended  to  execute  them  both  on  the  same  scaffold, 
but  the  council  were  justly  apprehensive  of  the  impression 
which  this  spectacle  might  make  on  the  people;  the  youth, 
the  beauty,  the  birth,  the  innocence  of  the  victims,  could  not  fail 
of  moving  every  heart.  Jane  was  therefore  ordered  to  be  be- 
headed within  the  Tower,  and  Lord  Guilford  on  the  hill. 

Jane  beheld  from  her  window  her  husband  led  to  execution ; 


244  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

when,  having  given  him  some  token  of  her  remembrance,  she 
awaited  her  own  fate  with  tranquil  firmness.  On  her  way  to 
the  scaffold  she  was  met  by  the  lifeless  body  of  Lord  Guilford ; 
this  affecting  spectacle  forced  from  her  some  tears,  which  the 
report  of  his  constancy  and  courage  quickly  dried,  while  it  in- 
spired her  with  new  fortitude.  She  attested  at  the  scaffold  her 
innocence  of  intentional  wrong,  but  without  breathing  the  sha- 
dow of  a  complaint  against  the  severity  by  which  she  suffered. 
Her  crime,  she  said,  had  not  been  ambition,  but  the  want  of  con- 
stancy to  resist  with  sufficient  firmness  the  instances  of  those 
whom  she  had  been  accustomed  to  revere  and  obey.  She  de- 
clared, that  she  submitted  cheerfully  to  death,  as  the  only  repa- 
ration in  her  power  to  make  to  the  injured  laws.  That  if  hei 
infringement  of  those  laws  had  been  constrained,  her  voluntary 
submission  to  their  sentence,  would,  she  hoped,  be  accepted  as 
an  atonement  for  the  error  into  which  filial  piety  only  could 
have  betrayed  her.  As  the  instrument  of  the  ambitious  pro- 
jects of  others,  she  confessed  her  punishment  to  be  just ;  and 
trusted  that  her  history  would  prove  useful  in  demonstrating  to 
all,  that  personal  innocence  is  no  excuse  for  actions  which  tend 
to  the  disturbance  of  the  community.  She  concluded  her  re- 
marks by  a  solid  profession  of  her  faith,  and  devoutly  repeated 
a  psalm  in  English. 

Rejecting  the  proffered  assistance  of  the  executioner,  she 
caused  herself  to  be  disrobed  by  her  women.  The  executioner, 
kneeling,  implored  her  forgiveness,  which  she  readily  accorded 
to  him,  adding,  "  I  pray  you  dispatch  me  quickly."  Then  kneel- 
ing, and  saying,  "  Lord  into  thy  hands  I  commit  my  spirit !"  she 
meekly  submitted  to  her  fate.  This  tragedy  took  place  on  the 
twelfth  of  February,  1554,  when  the  admirable  and  heroic 
victim  had  scarcely  completed  her  seventeenth  year. 

She  is  described  by  Doctor  Fuller  as  possessing  the  innocence 
of  childhood,  the  beauty  of  youth,  the  solidity  of  maturity,  and 
the  gravity  of  age.  Her  birth  was  that  of  a  princess ;  and  with 
the  learning  of  a  scholar  she  led  the  life  of  a  saint ;  and  yet,  for 
the  offences  of  others,  she  was  constrained  to  sufTer  the  death 
of  a  malefactor. 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  245 

Her  father,  the  duke  of  Suffolk,  paid  the  forfeit  of  his  crimes. 
He  was,  soon  after  the  death  of  his  daughter,  tried,  condemned, 
and  executed. 

On  the  walls  of  the  room  on  which  the  lady  Jane  was  im- 
prisoned in  the  Tower,  she  wrote  with  a  pin  the  following  lines : 


"Think  not,  O  mortal,  vainly  gay, 
That  thou  from  human  woes  art  free ; 

The  bitter  cup  I  drink  to  day, 
To-morrow  may  be  drunk  by  thee. 

"  Harmless  all  malice  if  our  God  is  nigh ; 

Fruitless  all  pains,  if  he  his  help  deny. 
Patient  I  pass  these  gloomy  hours  away, 

And  wait  the  morning  of  eternal  day." 


Galeria,  wife  of  Vitellius,  emperor  of  Rome,  distinguished 
herself  in  a  vicious  age,  by  exemplary  wisdom  and  modesty. 
After  the  tragical  death  of  her  husband  she  passed  her  days  in 
raourninsf  and  retirement. 


Catherine  Macaulay  Graham.  This  lady,  who,  by  her 
writings,  and  the  powers  of  her  mind,  has  reflected  so  much 
credit  on  her  sex  and  country,  was  bom  in  the  year  1733,  at 
her  father's  seat  at  OUantigh,  near  Ashford,  on  Kent.  Her 
mother  died  while  she  was  an  infant,  and  her  father,  Mr.  Saw- 
bridge,  so  severely  felt  the  loss,  that  he  almost  secluded  himself 
from  society,  though  possessed  of  a  fortune  of  3000/.  a  year.  He 
paid  no  attention  to  the  education  of  his  two  daughters,  who 
were  left  at  the  family  seat,  at  Ollantigh,  to  the  charge  of  an 
antiquated,  well  recommended,  but  ignorant  governess,  ill  quali- 
fied for  the  task  she  undertook. 

Under  the  superintendence  of  this  woman,  they  grew  together, 
while  their  minds  and  characters,  as  directed  by  other  circum- 
stances, took  a  different  turn.  The  eldest  daughter,  whose 
temper  was  placid  and  amiable,  derived  amusement  from  her 
baby  hours,  and  from  the  customary  avocations  of  her  sex  and 
age.     The  younger,  Catherine,  found  nothing  to  interest  her 

21* 


246  FEMALE    BIOGKAPHY. 

attention  in  her  sister's  pursuits ;  active  and  curious,  she  thirsted 
for  knowledge,  and  her  dolls  could  give  her  no  information. 
The  books  which  were  put  into  her  hands  entertained  her  for 
a  time,  while  they  interested  her  imagination,  and  gratified  her 
taste  for  novelty ;  but  at  length  she  became  satiated  with  fairy 
tales  and  romances,  which  afforded  not  aliment  sufficiently  sub- 
stantial to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  her  inquiring  mind.     Having 
found  her  way  into  her   father's  well  furnished   library,  she 
became  her  own  purveyor,  and  rioted  in  intellectual  luxury. 
Every  hour  in  the  day,  which  no  longer  hung  heavy  on  her 
hands,  was  now  occupied  and  improved.     She  first  made  choice 
of  the  periodical  writers,  the  Spectator,  Guardian,  &c.,  who,  in 
treating  of  morals  and  manners,  led  her  to  reflection,  while  they 
opened  and  strengthened  her  mind.     As  she  advanced  in  age, 
her  studies  took  a  wider  range ;  she  grew  attached  to  history, 
and  dwelt  with  delight  and  ardor  on  the  annals  of  the  Greek 
and  Roman  republics.     Their  laws  and  manners  interested  her 
understanding,  the  spirit  of  patriotism  seized  her,  and  she  became 
an  enthusiast  in  the  cause  of  freedom.     The  heroic  charactei 
and  actions  with  which  the  period  of  history  is  intermingled 
and  enlivened,  seldom  fail  to  captivate  the  affection  of  a  youthful 
and  uncorrupted  heart.     All  other  books  were  thrown  aside, 
history  became  her  darling  passion,  and  liberty  the  idol  of  her 
imagination.     Rollin's  Ancient  History,  and  his  account  of  the 
Roman  republic,  first  lighted  up  that  spark  in  her  mind,  which 
afterwards  blazed  with  so  much  fervor  and  splendor,  and  which 
gave  the  tone  to  her  sentiments  and  character  through  the  sub- 
sequent periods  of  her  life.    From  the  world  of  frivolity,  flattery, 
and  dissipation,  she  shrunk  back  to  a  more  improving  world  of 
her  own.     In  the  course  of  her  historical  studies,  the  pictures 
of  vice  and  turpitude,  w^hich  occasionally  presented  themselves, 
while  they  roused  her  indignation,  excited  the  astonishment  of 
her  inexperienced  heart,  the  feelings  of  which  were  called  forth, 
exercised,   and   exalted.     The   history   of  the   despotism   and 
tyranny  of  a  few  individuals,  and  the  slavish  subjection  of  un- 
counted millions,  their  passive  acquiescence,  their  suflferings,  and 
their  wrongs,  appeared  to  her  a  moral  problem,  which  she  had 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  247 

no  instruments  to  solve.  She  had  yet  to  learn  the  force  of  pre- 
scription, of  habit,  and  of  association,  the  imitative  and  progres- 
sive nature  of  the  human  mind,  and  the  complicated  springs  by 
which  it  is  set  in  motion.  She  deeply  reflected  on  the  subject  of 
government,  with  its  influence  on  the  happiness  and  virtue  of 
mankind ;  she  became  anxious  that  the  distance  should  be  di- 
minished that  separates  man  from  man ;  and  to  see  extended 
over  the  whole  human  race  those  enlightened  sentiments,  equal 
laws,  and  equitable  decisions,  that  might  restore  to  its  due  pro- 
portion a  balance  so  ill  adjusted,  and  combine  with  the  refine- 
ment of  a  more  advanced  age  the  simplicity  and  virtue  of  the 
earlier  periods.  Fraught  with  these  ideas,  and  with  a  heart 
glowing  with  good  will  towards  her  species,  she  took  up  her 
pen,  and  gave  to  the  most  interesting  portion  of  the  history  of 
her  country  a  new  spirit  and  interest. 

In  her  friendships,  Mrs.  Macaulay  was  fervent,  disinterested, 
and  sincere ;  zealous  for  the  prosperity,  and  for  the  moral  im- 
provement of  those  whom  she  distinguished  and  loved.  She  was 
earnest,  constant,  and  eloquent  in  her  efTorts  for  rectifying  the 
principles,  and  enlarging  the  minds,  of  her  friends  and  connec- 
tions. It  was  her  favorite  maxim  that  universal  benevolence, 
and  a  liberal  way  of  thinking,  were  not  only  essential  to  the 
freedom  and  welfare  of  society,  but  to  individual  virtue,  enjoy- 
ment and  happiness.  There  was  no  arrogance  in  her  exhorta- 
tions and  counsels ;  her  accents  were  not  less  mild  and  persua- 
sive, than  her  reason  was  energetic  and  forcible. 

Towards  the  latter  end  of  the  year  1777,  she  was  ordered  by 
her  physicians  to  the  south  of  France,  for  the  benefit  of  her 
health.  A  low  nervous  fever,  to  which  she  was  subject,  had 
debilitated  her  frame,  without  deducting  either  from  the  force  or 
activity  of  her  mind.  Nothing,  during  this  excursion,  escaped 
her  observation,  her  conversation  and  remarks  were  at  once 
acute  and  profound.  During  the  six  weeks  that  she  remained 
at  Paris,  her  apartments  were  crowded  with  visitors.  Among 
the  Americans,  who  were  at  that  time  numerous  at  Paris,  those 
who  w^ere  eminent  for  their  learning  or  talents  seized  every 
opportunity  of  observing  the  fair  historian,  and  mingling  in 


248  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

the  societies  she  was  accustomed  to  frequent.  Apprehensive, 
from  these  circumstances,  that  her  conduct  might  be  miscon- 
strued, she  concluded  to  bid  adieu  to  the  hospitable  societies  at 
Paris,  and  return  once  more  to  her  native  land.  In  a  letter  to 
Doctor  Franklin,  who  was  then  at  Paris,  before  her  departure, 
she  informed  him  of  the  motives  by  which  she  had  been  induced  to 
wave  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  him  and  his  American  friends  at 
her  hotel.  The  circumstances  of  the  times,  and  her  known  repub- 
lican principles,  rendered  her  liable  to  suspicions ;  and  the  sus- 
pension of  the  habeas  corpus  act  in  England  to  consequences, 
whi»h,  in  the  delicate  state  of  her  health,  could  not  but  prove 
fatal.  "  The  whole  tenor  of  my  conduct  must  have  convinced 
you,  sir,"  says  she,  towards  the  conclusion  of  her  letter,  "  that  I 
should  with  pleasure  sacrifice  my  life,  could  it  have  been  of  any 
real  service  to  the  cause  of  public  freedom.  I  am  now  nursing 
my  constitution,  to  enable  me  to  treat  at  large,  in  the  history  in 
which  I  am  engaged,  on  our  fatal  civil  war.  I  am,  sir,  with 
profound  respect  for  your  great  qualities,  as  a  statesman,  patriot, 
and  philosopher,  yours,  &c.  &c." 

Having  been  personally  acquainted  with  the  greater  number 
of  the  celebrated  Americans  who  visited  England,  and  in  the 
habit  of  corresponding  with  those  who  had  distinguished  them- 
selves on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  Mrs.  Macauley  was  very 
desirous  of  making  a  visit  to  the  transatlantic  republic ;  a  de- 
sign which  she  executed  in  1785.  She  visited  nine  of  the 
thirteen  United  States,  where  she  was  received  with  kindness 
and  hospitality.  She  terminated  her  journey  to  the  south  by 
paying  her  respects  "to  General  Washington,  at  his  seat  at  Mount 
Vernon.  Under  the  roof  of  this  illustrious  man  she  remained 
three  weeks,  and  continued  to  correspond  with  him  during  the 
remainder  of  her  life. 

It  seemed  to  have  been  her  intention,  after  her  return  to  Eng- 
land, to  have  composed  a  history  of  the  American  contest ;  for 
which  purpose  she  had  been  furnished  by  General  Washington 
with  many  materials,  but  the  infirm  state  of  her  health  prevented 
her.  She  resided,  during  the  greater  part  of  the  remainder  of 
her  life,  at  Binfield  in  Berkshire,  where,  after  a  tedious  illness, 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  249 

attended  by  much  suffering,  which  she  supported  with  exemplary- 
patience  and  fortitude,  she  expired,  June  22d,  1791, 

She  was  twice  married ;  the  first  time  to  Doctor  George  Ma- 
caulay,  a  physician  of  some  eminence  in  London ;  and,  after  his 
death,  to  Mr.  William  Graham,  who  had  also  been  educated  to 
the  profession  of  physic,  but  who  afterwards  entered  into  the 
church. 


Mary  Jane  Grosvenor,  was  the  only  daughter  of  the  late 
Alexander  C.  Hanson,  Esq.,  chancellor  of  Maryland.  During 
her  very  infancy,  he  began  to  form  her  mind  on  the  purest  model, 
to  enrich  it  with  various  literature,  and  to  plant  deeply  and  dura- 
bly therein  the  seeds  of  virtue  and  morality.  In  this  endearing 
work,  he  was  powerfully  assisted  by  her  mother,  a  woman  of 
rare  excellence.  To  those  who  knew  the  late  chancellor  and 
his  lady,  his  diversified  talents  and  excellent  principles,  her 
virtuous  mind,  and  sound  judgment,  it  is  not  necessary  to  say, 
that  a  mind  like  that  of  Mrs.  Grosvenor,  docile,  brilliant,  and 
strong,  under  their  skillful  culture,  was  reared  rapidly  to  matu- 
rity. And  happy  for  her  was  this  early  and  rapid  progress  in 
every  mental  endowment,  for  at  the  age  of  fifteen  began  the  real 
sorrows  of  life ;  she  lost  her  father.  In  the  ensuing  year  her 
mother,  on  whom  now  rested  all  her  remaining  hopes  of  earthly 
happiness,  broken  hearted,  followed  her  husband  to  the  tomb. 

Of  the  state  of  Mrs.  Grosvenor' s  mind,  up  to  this  period,  of 
her  views  of  religion,  of  her  particular  studies,  and  indeed,  of 
her  general  pursuits,  little  is  known.  Certainly,  she  had  read 
extensively  and  advantageously,  and  under  the  direction  of  her 
father,  had  attempted  branches  of  literature  not  frequently  culti- 
vated or  deemed  appropriate  to  her  sex.  Certainly  her  life  must 
have  been  correct,  and  her  disposition  affectionate,  for  she  was 
esteemed  and  loved  until  her  death,  by  the  friends  of  her  early 
years. 

Now  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  she  was  left  in  the  city  of  Balti- 
more, a  new  and  strange  abode,  without  friends  or  guides  of  her 
own  sex,  without  property,  without  even  common  acquaintance, 
a  young,  refined,  and  artless  girl,  to  the  sole  care  of  her  two 


250  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

brothers.  Neither  of  them  had  attained  the  age  of  twenty-one 
years.  Baltimore  was  the  focus  of  pleasure  and  of  fashion. 
They  were  young  and  gay,  engaged  in  the  bustle  of  life, 
fond  of  its  pleasures,  immersed  in  its  business,  and  intent  on 
building  up  their  own  fortunes,  which  they  were  left  to  per- 
form with  their  own  hands;  however  kindly  disposed,  and 
most  kindly  disposed  they  were,  however  affectionately  they 
loved  her,  and  most  affectionately  they  did  love  her,  and  how- 
ever willing  to  cherish  and  console  her,  it  cannot  be  conceived 
that  thus  situated,  and  engaged  in  such  constant  scenes,  they 
could  become  either  judicious  counsellors,  or  appropriate  guides 
to  her  young  mind,  through  the  mazes  of  this  wicked  world. 
For  a  long  time  she  had  few,  if  any  female  associates  of  her 
own  age,  with  whom  her  soul  could  hold  friendly  communion. 
Perhaps  it  was  fortunate  for  her  that  she  was  doomed  for  a  sea- 
son to  solitary  affliction.  Perhaps  it  was  the  kindness  of  her 
God,  which  compelled  her  thus  early  to  serious  reflection,  to  re- 
sort to  her  own  mind  for  support ;  to  fly  to  Him  for  succor  and 
consolation.  We  may  indulge  the  belief,  that  in  this  solitary 
and  sorrowful  period,  were  sown  those  seeds  of  grace,  which 
though  buried  for  a  season,  sprouted  forth,  and  in  after  years 
flourished  like  the  green  bay  tree,  and  finally  produced  the 
richest  fruits  of  humanity,  charity,  and  vital  piety. 

The  tenor  of  her  life  for  the  five  or  six  succeeding  years,  is 
not  particularly  known.  She  certainly  was  disposed  to  solemn 
contemplation ;  she  was  constant  in  the  public  worship  of  God, 
according  to  the  forms  of  the  church  to  which  she  belonged. 
She  continued  to  reside  with  the  one  or  the  other  of  her  brothers 
in  Baltimore.  At  length  she  mingled  in  the  society  of  her  sex, 
and  no  doubt  was  immersed  in  those  pleasures  which  eminently 
pertains  to  that  society  in  the  place  of  her  residence. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-two,  her  mind  became  more  seriously 
impressed  by  the  great  truths  of  religion,  and  she  began  so- 
lemnly to  enquire,  what  she  should  do  to  be  saved.  This  change 
was  not  evidenced  by  any  particularly  grave  deportment ;  nor  by 
any  apparent  gloom  or  despondency;  nor  by  abandoning  the 
cheerful  pleasures  of  society;    nor  yet  by  withdrawing  from 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  251 

those  public  amusements,  which  are  thought  by  the  world  to  be 
appropriate  to  her  age  and  sex ;  but  her  leisure  hours  were  de- 
voted to  serious  studies.  From  her  infancy,  she  had  never  failed 
to  approach  the  throne  of  grace,  both  morning  and  evening.  But 
now,  she  wrestled  with  her  God  more  earnestly ;  explored  the 
original  corruptions  of  her  own  heart  more  vigilantly,  searched 
the  book  of  life  more  frequently,  and  became  daily  more  impor- 
tunate with  her  God,  to  guide  her  steps  in  the  right  way. 

In  March,  1816,  she  was  married  to  the  Honorable  Thomas 
P.  Grosvenor,  a  distinguished  representative  in  congress,  from 
the  state  of  New  York.  She  was  a  wife  but  nine  months,  five 
of  which  were  passed  in  sickness  and  in  suffering. 

In  June,  she  was  affected  by  a  severe  cold,  accompanied  by 
coughing,  wandering  pains,  and  the  expectoration  of  a  very 
little  blood.  In  July,  an  haemoptysis  ensued,  and  she  discharged 
from  her  lungs  a  large  quantity  of  blood.  A  bilious  fever  suc- 
ceeded, which  for  twenty-one  days  raged  with  a  fury  beyond  the 
control  of  medicine.  At  length  it  subsided,  and  her  disorder 
assumed  the  defined  shape  of  a  consumption.  From  the  first, 
she  had  been  unable  to  stand  or  move  from  her  bed,  but  in  the 
arms  of  another.  For  five  months,  pains  the  most  acute  and 
tormenting,  were  her  constant  attendants.  At  length,  her  life, 
after  quivering  long  in  the  socket,  was  suddenly  extinguished ; 
and  that  soul,  which  had  been  long  familiaf  with  death,  and  had 
long  rested  on  faith,  took  its  flight  from  a  world  of  suffering,  to 
mingle  with  congenial  spirits  in  the  New  Jerusalem  above.  By 
frequent  conversations  on  her  death  bed,  she  taught,  as  from  the 
grave,  the  great  lesson,  that  all  reliance  for  salvation,  is  in  the 
rich,  unmerited  mercy  of  the  Redeemer. 

She  lived  and  died  a  member  of  the  protestant  episcopal 
church,  under  the  guidance  and  sanction  of  the  Right  Reverend 
Bishop  Kemp,  of  Baltimore.  She  seized  the  last  moment  allow- 
ed her,  and  with  a  look  and  tone,  which  evinced  hope,  confidence, 
and  holy  triumph,  which  proved  that  her  earnest  prayers  for 
support  in  her  dying  hours,  were  heard  and  answered,  she  ex- 
claimed, "  God  bless  you  all.  Give  him  thanks  that  he  has 
enabled  me  to  set  you  this  example." 


252  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

These  were  her  last  words.  Not  one  struggle,  scarcely  one 
convulsive  spasm  was  visible.  A  smile  of  triumph  lingered  on 
her  face.  It  was  the  beam  of  a  sun  that  had  set.  The  saint 
had  entered  into  rest. 

Such  was  the  end  of  this  young  and  lovely  woman.  It  was  a 
happy  and  glorious  death.  It  was  a  triumphant  appeal  to  all, 
whether  our  blessed  faith  brings  not  comfort  unspeakable  ;  but 
how  strong,  how  suitable,  how  glorious  its  consolations  are,  no 
one  can  ever  know,  until,  like  her,  he  is  bereft  of  all  others, 
and,  like  her,  finds  them  sufficient,  when  all  others  fail. 

Many  were  the  wretches,  steeped  in  poverty  and  in  suffering, 
who  invoked  the  blessings  of  heaven  upon  her  small,  but  kind 
and  discriminating  charities ;  not  for  her  charities  only,  but  for 
her  frequent  visits  to  their  desolate  abodes,  for  the  timely  assist- 
ance which  her  own  hand  had  rendered,  and  the  religious 
consolations  which  her  soothing  admonitions  have  administered. 
How  many  pillows  of  sickness  and  agony  has  her  own  hand 
smoothed  ?  Over  how  many  beds  of  death  has  she  watched, 
relieving  sorrow  by  her  sympathy,  alluring  to  heaven  by  her 
persuasions,  assuaging  even  the  agonies  of  death  by  her  kind- 
ness and  consolation  ? 

"  Playful  and  artless,  on  the  summer  wave 
Sporting  with  buoyant  wing,  the  fairy  scene 
With  faire*  grace  adorning ;  but  in  woe. 
In  poverty,  in  soul  subduing  griefs. 
In  patient  tending  on  the  sick  man's  bed, 
In  ministerings  of  love,  in  bitterest  pangs 
Faithful  and  firm ;  in  scenes  where  former  hearts 
Have  cracked,  still  cheerful,  and  still  kind." 


Susan  Huntington,  the  wife  of  Joshua  Huntington,  a  dis- 
tinguished clergyman  in  Boston,  was  the  daughter  of  Achilles 
Mansfield,  a  clergyman  of  Killingworth,  Connecticut ;  she  was 
born  January  27th  1791.  She  was  a  descendant,  on  the  maternal 
side  from  the  "-Indian  Apostle"  John  Eliot..  Jared  Eliot,  her 
maternal  grandfather,  was  grandson  of  the  great  translator  of 
the  bible  into  the  Indian  language.  Jared  Eliot  was  a  man  of 
talents  and  acquirements,  as  in  fact,  have  been  his  descendants. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  253 

He  introduced  the  white  mulherry  into  Connecticut,  and  made 
some  successful  attempts  to  cultivate  the  silkworm  for  the  pur- 
pose of  making-  silk,  but  although  Franklin  approved  of  his 
exertions,  his  neighbors  did  not  believe  that  this  could  be  done 
to  advantage,  and  his  efforts  were  not  followed  up.  His 
knowledge  of  botany,  of  agriculture  and  manufactures  was  in 
advance  of  his  age.  He  was  also  a  chemist  and  good  physician, 
and  had  a  high  reputation  for  his  treatment  of  maniacal  patients. 
In  this  he  anticipated  the  great  improvement  of  modern  times, 
in  using  a  moral  as  well  as  medical  treatment.  He  preached 
for  forty  years  on  Sunday  without  omitting  a  single  day.  He 
had  "  a  sane  mind  in  sound  body"  and  must  also  have  been 
favored  by  heaven  to  have  done  this.  Mr.  Eliot  was  twenty-one 
years  older  than  Franklin,  but  he  used  to  say,  when  the  philoso- 
pher had  spent  a  night  with  him,  as  it  is  said  he  frequently  did : 
"I  have  had  in  my  house  the  oldest  man  in  America."  The 
agricultural  essays  from  his  pen  may  be  read  with  profit  at  this 
day,  although  they  were  written  more  than  three  quarters  of  a 
century  ago. 

Miss  Mansfield  was  married  to  Joshua  Huntington  in  1 809, 
He  died  in  1819.  She  survived  him  four  years.  She  was  an 
excellent  woman,  of  highly  cultivated  mind,  and  gentle  and 
amiable  manners.  She  wrote  several  tracts  of  merit,  and  was 
capable  of  higher  efforts ;  an  anecdote  will  show  her  disposition. 
While  a  widow  she  was  robbed  by  a  female  of  several  valuable 
articles  of  jewelry.  This  was  made  known  to  the  oflicers,  and 
the  thief  and  the  articles  were  found.  She  was  called  on  in  the 
municipal  court  to  identify  them.  This  was  readily  done.  She 
was  asked  their  value,  but  at  once  saw  the  bearing  of  the  ques- 
tion and  seemed  reluctant  to  answer ;  and  for  a  moment  evaded 
it  by  saying  that  she  was  not  a  good  judge  of  jewelry,  as  she 
never  used  much  of  it.  A  person  was  called  to  give  a  value  of 
the  articles.  She  requested  him  to  consider  that  they  were  old 
fashioned,  had  been  worn  many  years  ago,  and  showed  no  little 
address  to  get  them  apprized  at  a  low  rate.  Satisfied  with  this 
result,  she  suggested  to  the  judge  that  she  was  perhaps  inno- 
cently the  cause  of  the  crime,  for  she  had  taken  these  things 

22 


254  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

from  a  trunk  where  they  had  long  been  unseen,  and  by  accident 
left  them  on  the  table,  thus  throwing  temptations  before  the  poor 
ignorant  girl.  She  modestly  and  sweetly  said  that  she  did  not 
wish  to  interfere  with  the  duties  of  a  judge,  but  as  far  as  her  feel- 
ings could  be  indulged,  she  wished  for  the  least  posssible  punish- 
ment for  the  unfortunate  girl.  She  hoped  and  wished  that  she 
would  repent,  and  stepped  from  the  stand  with  a  tear  trembling 
in  her  eye.  The  judge  was  sensibly  affected,  and  mentioned 
Mrs.  Huntington's  charitable  feelings  in  his  sentence  of  the  cul- 
prit, and  told  her  that  the  good  woman  she  had  been  so  base  as 
to  steal  from,  had  saved  her  from  severe  punishment. 

Mrs.  Huntington  died  on  the  fourth  of  December,  1 823,  much 
lamented.  Her  memoirs  have  been  written  by  the  Rev.  B.  B. 
Wisner,  the  successor  of  her  husband  at  the  old  south  meeting 
house,  in  the  city  of  Boston,  and  published,  with  her  letters, 
a  journal,  and  some  fragments  of  poetry.  This  work  was  very 
acceptable  to  the  public  in  this  country,  and  was  held  in  great 
estimation  abroad.  In  Scotland  the  volume  passed  through  five 
editions  in  a  short  time.  It  was  accompanied  by  an  essay  and 
poem  written  by  James  Montgomery  the  poet.  This  was  a 
high,  but  deserved  tribute  of  respect  from  one  great  and  good 
mind  to  another,  whose  persons  oceans  divided,  but  whose 
minds  were  in  unison  upon  the  great  truths  of  religion.  Hun- 
dreds of  works  have  been  republished  in  this  country,  written  in 
other  countries,  not  half  so  worthy  of  diffusion  as  the  mental 
labors  of  Mrs.  Huntington.  And  we  are  happy  to  find  that  a 
few  of  our  own  books  are  noticed  beyond  the  waters.  When 
religion,  liberty,  and  letters  are  properly  regarded,  and  assume 
their  legitimate  rank,  there  will  be  no  boundary  lines  formed  by 
prejudice,  or  kept  up  by  political  reasons,  for  the  offspring  of 
mind. 


Hypatia,  a  learned  and  beautiful  lady,  the  daughter  of 
Theon,  a  celebrated  philosopher  and  mathematician,  and  presi- 
dent of  the  Alexandrian  school,  was  born  at  Alexandria,  about 
the  end  of  the  fourth  century.  Her  father,  encouraged  by  her 
extraordinary  genius,  had  her  not  only  educated  in  all  the  ordi- 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  25t 

nary  qualifications  of  her  sex,  but  instructed  her  in  the  most 
abstruse  sciences.  She  made  great  progress  in  philosophy,  geom- 
etry, astronomy,  and  the  mathematics,  so  that  she  was  esteemed 
the  most  learned  person  of  her  time.  At  length  she  was  thought 
worthy  to  succeed  her  father  in  that  distinguished  and  important 
employment,  the  government  of  the  school  of  Alexandria,  and 
to  teach  out  of  that  chair,  where  Ammonius,  Herocles,  and 
many  other  great  men  had  taught  before ;  and  this  at  a  time 
when  men  of  learning  abounded  in  Alexandria,  and  in  many 
other  parts  of  the  Roman  empire.  Her  fame  was  so  extensive, 
that  she  had  a  very  crowded  auditory.  But,  while  Hypatia 
reigned  the  brightest  ornament  of  Alexandria,  a  kind  of  civil 
war,  which  broke  out  between  Orestes  the  governor,  and  Cyril 
the  patriarch,  proved  fatal  to  this  lady.  In  415,  about  five  hun- 
dred monks  attacked  the  governor,  dragged  Hypatia  from  the 
chair,  tore  her  to  pieces,  and  burned  her  limbs. 


Ann  Hutchinson.  It  often  happens,  that  persons  live  in 
an  age  too  early  to  have  their  merits  duly  estimated.  This  was 
the  case  of  Galileo  and  others,  who  have  done  much  for  man- 
kind. It  often  takes  whole  ages  to  set  history  right  upon  mat* 
ters  of  fact  and  opinion.  No  person,  in  our  annals,  has  suffered 
more  obloquy  without  cause,  than  Mrs.  Hutchinson.  She  came 
with  her  husband  from  Lincolnshire  to  Boston,  in  1636.  Her  hus- 
band was  a  man  of  note,  being  a  representative  of  Boston,  and 
in  good  repute.  Mrs.  Hutchinson  was  a  well  educated,  shrewd 
woman  ;  she  was  a  great  admirer  of  Mr.  Cotton,  then  a  popu- 
lar preacher  in  Boston,  with  whom,  it  is  probable,  she  was  well 
acquainted  in  England,  as  they  came  from  the  same  county. 
She  was  ambitious  and  active,  and  was  delighted  with  metaphy- 
sical subtleties  and  nice  distinctions.  She  had  a  ready  pen,  and 
a  fine  memory,  and  from  the  habit  of  taking  notes  in  church, 
she  possessed  herself  of  all  the  points  in  Mr.  Cotton's  sermons, 
which  she  was  fond  of  communicating  to  others  of  less  reten- 
tive faculties.  She  held  conference  meetings  at  her  own  house, 
and  commented  on  the  great  doctrines  of  salvation.  She  enter- 
tained several  speculative  opinions,  that  in  the  present  state  of 


256  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

intelligence,  would  be  considered  as  harmless  as  a  poet's  dream, 
but  which,  at  that  time,  "  threw  the  whole  colony  into  a  flame." 
Every  household  was  fevered  by  religious  discussions  upon  co- 
venants of  faith  and  covenants  of  works,  always  the  most  bitter 
of  all  disputes.  In  all  probability,  the  vanity  of  Mrs.  Hutchin- 
son Avas  raised,  to  see  that  she  could  so  easily  disturb  the  reli- 
gious and  metaphysical  world  about  her ;  and  no  doubt,  but 
that  the  persecutions  she  suffered,  made  her  more  obstinate  than 
she  otherwise  would  have  been.  If  they  had  let  her  alone,  her 
doctrines  would  have  passed  away  with  a  thousand  other  vaga- 
ries ;  but  the  clergy  would  not  suffer  this  to  be,  notwithstanding 
they  risked  something  in  calling  this  popular  woman  to  an  ac- 
count. She  was  considered  wiser,  and  more  learned  in  the  scrip- 
tures than  all  her  opponents.  She  had  powerful  friends.  Sir 
Henry  Vane  the  governor,  a  popular  young  man,  of  large 
wealth,  was  her  friend,  and  Cotton  and  Wheelwright  the 
ministers,  were  her  warm  supporters,  and  had  a  profound  re- 
spect for  her  talents  and  virtues ;  but  still  the  majority  of  the 
clergy  was  against  her. 

In  1637  a  synod  was  called,  the  first  in  our  history,  which 
was  held  in  conclave  at  Cambridge.  It  was  composed  of  the 
governor,  the  deputy  governor,  the  council  of  assistants,  and  the 
teachers  and  the  elders  of  churches.  They  sat  in  conclave  for 
fear  of  the  people,  particularly  Mrs.  Hutchinson's  followers. 
Her  friend,  Sir  Henry  Vane,  was  no  longer  in  the  chair  of  state. 
In  this  body  she  was  charged  with  heresy,  and  called  upon  to 
defend  herself  before  these  inquisitors.  The  charges  and  spe- 
cifications were  numerous,  as  is  proved  by  the  judgment  of 
the  court.  Before  the  tribunal  she  stood  for  three  weeks,  de- 
fending herself  against  a  body  of  inquisitors,  who  were  at  once 
the  prosecutors,  the  witnesses,  and  the  judges.  The  report  of 
the  trial  is  said  to  be  from  the  minutes  of  Governor  Winthrop, 
certainly  not  from  her  own  brief  The  charges  from  the  gover- 
nor, who  presided,  were  vituperations  and  vague,  consisting  of 
general  matters,  rather  than  of  special  allegations ;  to  all  of 
which  she  returned  the  most  acute  and  pregnant  answers,  evin- 
cing a  mind  of  the  first  order.    One  after  another  of  her  judges 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  25T 

questioned  and  harangued  her,  but  she  never  lost  her  self-posses- 
sion. The  only  circumstance  in  the  whole  case  that  shows  the 
sincerity  of  her  judges,  is  the  report  they  have  made  of  her  trial. 
Her  judges  were  the  first  in  the  land,  comprising  every  one 
in  the  colony,  who  had  fallen  under  the  suspicion  of  having 
been  her  friend.  That  intolerant  old  Dudley,  the  lieutenant 
governor,  was  the  most  inveterate  of  her  enemies.  Cotton,  who 
was  called  as  a  witness,  behaved  well,  and  grave  and  holy  as 
he  was,  was  treated  Avith  great  severity  as  a  witness.  On  the 
whole  they  proved  nothing  against  her,  but  that  she  had  ex- 
pressed her  own  opinions  freely,  and  supported  them  manfully, 
by  unanswerable  texts  of  scripture.  No  defence  ever  recorded 
in  profane  history  has  ever  been  equal  to  this.  Socrates  before 
his  judges  did  not  meet  his  accusers  with  half  the  acuteness. 
Eugene  Aram's  defence  had  not  the  same  directness  and  power, 
nor  that  of  Maria  Antoinette  more  high  mindedness.  St.  Paul's 
alone,  before  the  Areopagii  can  bear  any  comparison.  He  was 
charged  of  introducing  a  new  God,  which,  by  an  Athenian  law, 
was  death,  to  prevent  an  increase  of  their  catalogue  of  divinities. 
He  escaped  by  declaring  that  he  had  not  enlarged  their  number, 
but  that  he  taught  them  who  was  the  unknown  God,  whose 
temple  he  had  seen  among  them,  and  whose  name  was  inscribed 
on  its  walls. 

Instead  of  raising  a  monument,  as  they  should  have  done  iv 
this  most  acute  metaphysician  and  eloquent  defender  of  herself, 
they  found  her  guilty  of  more  than  eighty  heretical  opinions ; 
but  fortunately  for  themselves,  they  did  not  venture  to  specify 
them  in  her  sentence,  but  ordered  her  to  recant  and  renounce 
them,  under  the  penalty  of  excommunication  and  banishment. 
Mrs.  Hutchinson  was  firm ;  she  made  a  fair  explanation,  but 
would  not  renounc*  what  she  conscientiously  believed  to  be 
right,  and  was  accordingly  banished.  She  went  to  Rhode  Island, 
but  did  not  long  remain  there.  After  the  death  of  her  husband, 
in  1642,  she  went  to  the  Dutch  country  beyond  New  Haven, 
and  was,  with  most  of  her  large  family,  massacred  by  the  Indians. 
This,  the  superstitious  considered  as  a  judgment,  "for  many  evils 

in  her  conversation,  as  well  as  for  corrupt  opinions ;"  and  to  this 

22* 


258  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

day  she  is  called  an  artful  woman,  but  not  one  of  her  accusers 
dare  name  one  of  those  evils  of  conversation,  and  but  two  or 
three  of  those  corrupt  opinions.  The  writer  feels  ashamed  of 
the  land  of  his  birth,  in  reading  the  whole  course  of  this  fanati- 
cal and  unjust  sentence,  but  would  not  have  it  erased  from  the 
records,  as  it  is  calculated  to  humble  the  pride  of  the  infal- 
lible bigot,  and  serves  as  a  good  lesson  for  modern  times,  in 
more  than  in  one  instance.  That  woman  must  have  been  of 
virtuous  life,  that  such  a  band  of  inquisitors  could  not  find  cause 
to  condemn,  except  as  to  opinions.  The  whole  story  is  a  lesson, 
for  it  shows,  that  men  in  a  body  may  do  that  which  but  few  of 
them  separately,  would  dare  to  support.  In  that  body  were  to  be 
found  the  learned  Phillips,  the  apostle  Eliot,  the  honest  Welde, 
with  many  other  excellent  men,  who  voted  against  the  great 
female  metaphysician  of  her  time.  Three  only  of  the  synod  had 
the  courage  to  dissent  from  the  judgment.  It  seems,  after  all, 
that  the  sentence  was  more  a  matter  of  policy  than  of  law, 
as  maybe  drawn  from  the  scantiness  of  the  record  on  this  head; 
for  Winthrop  was  an  acute  lawyer,  and  if  he  had  found  any 
thing  which  he  dared  to  put  on  record,  in  justification  of  this 
body,  it  would  have  been  found  there.  That  they  should  have 
erred,  is  not  surprising;  but  that  historians  of  a  later  age  should 
have  continued  to  justify  them,  is  astonishing,  and  shows  how 
little  independence  or  original  thinking  there  is  among  those 
who  venture  to  call  themselves  historians. 


HipPARCHiA,  a  celebrated  lady  of  Maronea  in  Thrace,  in  the 
time  of  Alexander  the  Great.  Her  attachment  to  learning  and 
philosophy  was  so  great,  that  having  attended  the  lectures  of 
Crates,  the  cynic,  she  fell  in  love  with  him,  and  resolved  to 
marry  him,  though  he  was  both  old  and  ugly ;  and  though  she 
was  courted  by  many  handsome  young  men,  distinguished  by 
their  rank  and  riches.  Crates  told  her  she  could  not  be  his 
wife,  unless  she  resolved  to  live  as  he  did.  This  she  cheerfully 
agreed  to,  assumed  the  habit  of  the  order,  and  accompanied  him 
everywhere  to  public  entertainments,  &c.,  which  was  not  cus- 
tomary with  the  Grecian  ladies.     She  wrote  several  tragedies, 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  259 

philosophical  hypotheses,  and  reasonings  and  questions,  proposed 
to  Theodorus  the  atheist,  but  none  of  her  works  are  extant. 


HoRTENsiA,  a  Roman  lady,  was  daughter  of  Hortensius  the 
orator,  of  great  wit  and  eloquence,  as  a  speech  preserved  by 
Appian  demonstrates;  which  for  elegance  of  language,  and 
justness  of  thought,  would  have  done  honor  to  Cicero  or  De- 
mosthenes. What  gave  occasion  to  it  was,  that  the  triumvirs 
of  Rome  wasted  a  large  sum  of  money  for  carrying  on  a  war ; 
and  having  met  with  difficulties  in  raising  it,  they  drew  up  a 
list  of  fourteen  hundred  of  the  richest  of  the  ladies,  intendino- 
to  tax  them.  Those  ladies,  after  having  in  vain  tried  every  me- 
thod to  evade  so  great  an  innovation,  at  last  chose  Hortensia  for 
their  speaker,  and  went  along  with  her  to  the  market  place, 
where  she  addressed  the  triumvirs  while  they  were  administer- 
ing justice.  She  concluded  with  these  words :  "  Neither  Ma- 
rius,  nor  Cesar,  nor  Pompey,  ever  thought  of  obliging  us  to 
take  part  in  the  domestic  troubles  which  their  ambition  had 
raised ;  nay,  nor  did  even  Sylla  himself,  who  first  set  up  tyran- 
ny in  Rome  ;  and  yet  you  assume  the  glorious  title  of  reformers 
of  the  state,  a  title,  which  will  turn  to  your  eternal  infamy,  if, 
without  the  least  regard  to  the  law  of  equity,  you  persist  in  your 
wicked  resolution  of  plundering  those  of  their  lives  and  for- 
tunes, who  have  given  you  no  just  cause  of  offence."  The  con- 
sequence was,  that  they  reduced  the  list  of  those  who  should  be 
taxed,  to  four  hundred. 


Hecuba,  the  second  wife  of  Priam,  and  mother  of  Hector 
and  Paris,  was,  according  to  Homer,  the  daughter  of  Dymas, 
or  as  Virgil,  following  Euripides,  says,  of  Cisseis,  king  of 
Thrace,  and  sister  of  Theaia,  the  priestess  of  Apollo  at  Troy, 
during  the  war.  After  the  capture  of  Troy,  she  attempted  to 
revenge  the  death  of  her  son  Polydorus,  and  was  stoned  to  death 
by  the  Greeks.  Some  say  that  she  became  a  slave  to  Ulysses, 
and  that  this  prince  left  the  unfortunate  princess  in  the  hands  of 
her  enemies,  who  caused  her  to  be  stoned.  It  is  probable, 
however,  that  Ulysses  himself  was  the  cause  of  her  death; 


260  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

because  it  is  said,  that  upon  his  arrival  in  Sicily,  he  was  so  tor- 
mented with  dreams,  that  he  built  a  temple  to  Hecate,  who  pre- 
sided over  dreams,  and  a  chapel  to  Hecuba. 


Marcia  Hall,  the  daughter  of  William  Hall,  Esquire,  was 
born  in  Vermont  in  the  year  1807.  She  was  well  educated  and 
remarkable  for  sedateness  and  deep  reflection ;  and  until  she 
produced  some  verses  of  considerable  merit,  she  was  not  sus- 
pected of  having  a  taste  for  poetry.  The  cast  of  her  mind  was 
rather  sentimental  and  touched  with  melancholy;  a  common 
case  with  those  who  find  an  early  grave.  The  philosophy  of 
this  may  not  as  yet  be  distinctly  understood,  but  there  are  too 
many  facts  on  record  to  doubt  that  such  things  are.  Miss  Hall 
was  surrounded  by  partial  friends,  and  had  every  comfort  that 
a  reasonable  being  could  wish,  and  seemed  contented  with  all 
about  her ;  yet  nothing  could  elevate  her  above  an  habitual 
touch  of  melancholy.  She  seemed  not  ambitious  of  literary 
distinction,  but  willingly  yielded  to  the  wishes  of  her  friends  in 
publishing  what  she  wrote.  She  was  so  situated  as  to  see  in 
her  short  life,  an  extensive  circle  of  female  friends,  for  her 
father's  house  was  a  most  hospitable  mansion,  and  one  Avhere 
people  of  taste  and  information  were  often  found.  Her  father 
was  a  gentleman  of  extensive  acquirements,  and  his  thirst  for 
knowledge,  and  his  admiration  for  genius,  were  not  exceeded 
jy  any  one  in  the  country.  He  doated  on  this  daughter,  for  in 
addition  to  her  fine  talents,  her  manners  were  gentle  and  affec- 
tionate, and  all  that  knew  her  were  her  friends.  Her  poetical 
efiusions  were  matters  of  amusement,  and  never  seemed  to  fill 
her  mind.  She  died  in  1829,  of  consumption,  that  dragon  that 
devours  a  thousand  times  as  many  of  the  virgins  of  the  regions 
of  frost,  as  ever  were  demanded  by  the  monster  from  Athens  in 
the  days  of  fable.  "  Fell  Phthisis"  destroys  more  females  of  all 
ages  than  all  the  rest  of  the  catalogue  of  diseases.  She  was  pre- 
pared to  meet  death,  and  calmly  too,  in  the  lingering  form  it 
presented  itself  While  she  wasted  away,  she  still  retained  her 
good  feelings  for  all  the  world ;  and  if  one  might  judge  by  the 
smile  on  her  lip,  and  the  lighting  up  of  her  eye,  she  was  even 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  2Gi 

more  cheerful  than  usual ;  she  was  gently  descending  to  the 
grave.  She  talked  of  a  change  of  Avorld  with  a  serenity  which 
nothing  but  religion  can  give.  Her  compositions  were,  it  is 
understood  numerous ;  but  I  know  not  what  pains  there  has 
been  taken  to  preserve  them.  The  following  is  a  little  gem 
from  her  pen,  which  the  writer  has  preserved  as  a  sort  of  keep- 
sake, as  a  remembrancer  of  one  who  went  down  to  the  chambers 
of  the  dead,  in  the  purity  of  virtue,  the  glow  of  genius,  and  the 
illuminations  of  religion. 

SONG. 

O  take  away  that  wreath  of  flowers, 

Nor  bind  it  on  my  brow ; 
For  what  was  bright  in  former  hours, 

Is  dark  and  cheerless  now. 

There  is  no  Hght  shed  o'er  my  way ; 

E'en  hope's  pale  beam  has  fled; 
And  those  I  lov'd  are  gone  for  aye 

To  the  cold  regions  of  the  dead. 

My  life  has  been  a  chequered  scene 
Of  grief  and  gladness,  hopes  and  fears. 

While  joy's  hght  steps,  and  pleasing  mien. 
Were  rainbow  glimpses,  seen  through  tears. 

Then  take  away  that  wreath  of  flowers, 

Nor  bind  it  on  my  brow ; 
For  what  was  bright  in  former  hours, 

Is  dark  and  cheerless  now. 


Sarah  Hull,  wife  of  General  William  Hull,  was  born  at 
Newton,  in  Massachusetts,  about  the  year  1755.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  Judge  Fuller,  of  that  town,  a  man  of  note  in  his 
day.  His  daughter  had  all  the  advantages  of  education  which 
Boston  afforded,  and  they  were  superior  to  those  of  any  other 
part  of  the  country  at  that  time.  Mrs.  Hull  was  distinguished 
for  good  sense,  lady-like  manners,  and  great  energy  of  charac- 
ter. Her  husband  was  a  gallant  young  officer ;  he  entered  the 
army  on  the  breaking  out  of  the  war,  and  gained  laurels  m 
every  campaign.    Mrs.  Hull  was  with  him  in  several ;  she  was 


262  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

one  of  those  women  who  knew  what  they  had  to  suffer  in  a 
camp,  and  made  up  her  mind  to  meet  all  things  with  compo- 
sure. It  was  the  fashion  then,  more  than  at  the  present  day, 
for  the  wives  of  officers  to  follow  their  hushands  to  the  wars. 
There  were  an  unusual  number  of  ladies  in  Burgoyne's  army ; 
they  had  come  out  for  amusement,  to  spend  the  winter  in  Alba- 
ny and  New  York,  after  the  junction  between  Burgoyne  and 
Clinton  should  be  formed.  They  were  sadly  deceived,  and  suf- 
fered much,  notwithstanding,  the  Americans  did  every  thing  in 
their  power  to  make  them  comfortable,  after  the  surrender.  Mrs. 
Schuyler,  Knox,  Brooks,  Hull,  and  other  American  ladies  were 
incessant  in  their  attentions  to  Lady  Harriet  Acland,  the  Coun- 
tess of  Balcarras,  Baroness  Reidessel,  and  many  others,  who 
were  voluntary  prisoners  with  their  husbands.  It  was  contend- 
ed in  that  day,  that  ladies  were  necessary  in  an  army,  to  keep 
the  officers  from  engaging  in  a  round  of  dissipation,  and  to 
make  them  attentive  to  dress  and  moral  discipline.  It  was  then 
objected  to,  from  an  apprehension  that  men  would  not  be  so  cou- 
rageous when  they  knew  that  their  wives  would  suffer  from  the 
effects  of  a  disastrous  fight ;  but  there  is  no  single  instance  on 
record,  in  our  revolutionary  annals,  of  the  fears  of  a  woman 
turning  her  husband  from  the  fight,  or  of  her  persuading  him  not 
to  go  to  battle ;  but  many  instances  might  be  mentioned  of  their 
preparing  the  armor  for  the  conflict,  and  of  their  girding  on 
the  sword  of  the  officers  with  their  own  hands. 

At  the  close  of  the  war,  Mrs.  Hull  returned  with  her  family 
to  her  paternal  inheritance,  at  Newton,  where  Major  Hull  soon 
became  noticed  in  political  life,  and  was  returned  a  senator  for 
the  county  of  Middlesex,  to  the  legislature  of  the  commonwealth 
of  Massachusetts,  in  which  office  he  served  for  several  terms. 
In  this  body  he  was  urbane  and  assiduous,  and  it  might  be  said, 
popular,  notwithstanding  he  was  in  the  minority.  After  the 
resignation  of  General  John  Brooks,  in  1799,  or  1800,  General 
Hull  was  appointed  by  the  legislature  a  major-general  of  the 
military  division  of  his  county.  It  was  an  excellent  body  of 
militia,  in  fine  discipline,  having  been  under  that  excellent 
officer,  General  Brooks.     General  Hull  called  out  his  whole 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  263 

division  twice,  which  were  as  fine  military  displays  as  have  ever 
been  seen  in  our  country ;  the  troops  were  mostly  in  neat  and 
tasteful  uniforms,  and  well  equipped.  Mrs.  Hull  did  the  honors 
of  the  general's  marque,  and  the  ease,  dignity,  and  urbanity,  with 
which  she  received  her  guests,  mostly  members  of  the  legisla- 
lature,  and  gentlemen  and  ladies  of  distinction,  was  the  grand 
theme  of  conversation  for  a  long  time  afterwards.  She  had  with 
her  two  or  three  daughters  full  grown,  who  were  elegant  wo- 
men, and  attracted  much  attention  among  the  visitors  in  this 
novel  situation. 

In  the  year  1805,  General  Hull  was  appointed  governor  of 
Michigan  Territory,  an  office  which  he  held  until  1814,  when 
he  was  succeeded  by  Lewis  Cass,  the  present  secretary  of  war. 
General  Hull  was  a  popular  governor,  and  Mrs.  Hull  was  ad- 
mirably suited  to  her  station.  She  gave  a  tone  to  society  on  the 
frontiers,  and  her  family  circle  was  admired  and  spoken  of  with 
pleasure,  by  every  one  who  visited  that  region  for  pleasure  or 
business.  It  was  a  wild  region  about  them,  although  Detroit  is 
an  old  settlement  itself  At  her  hospitable  head  quarters,  the 
traveler  rested  from  his  scientific  tour,  and  the  ofUcers  as  they 
came  from  the  farthest  military  posts,  found  a  warm  and  gen- 
erous welcome.  At  her  table  there  was  mind,  taste,  letters, 
and  good  manners. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  last  war  Governor  Hull  was 
appointed  a  major  general  in  the  United  States'  army,  but  on 
the  express  condition  of  retaining  his  office  of  governor  of  the 
territory  of  Michigan.  When  he  took  command  of  the  army, 
war  had  not  been  declared,  and  his  first  knowledge  of  this  fact 
was  from  the  British.  He  w^as  unfortunate  in  this  campaign, 
and  was  obliged  to  surrender  his  forces  to  the  army,  under 
Proctor,  which  was  much  larger  than  his  own.  This  subjected 
him  to  the  greatest  of  all  evils,  except  the  loss  of  conscious  rectitude, 
a  suspicion  of  cowardice  or  treason.  These  disasters  and  his 
long  protracted  trial,  we  will  leave  to  history,  or  to  the  general's 
biographer.  The  public  have  long  since  reversed  its  own  de- 
cision upon  the  case,  and  before  the  general  died  he  received 
«he  evidence  of  public  favor,  a  public  dinner,  attended  by  the 


264  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

first  men  in  his  state,  among  whom  were  many  who  were  once 
ready  to  condemn  him.  After  the  agitation  had  in  some  mea- 
sure passed  away,  General  Hull  wrote  a  defence  of  his  conduct, 
which  was  unanswerable,  and  has  been  admired  by  all  who  have 
read  it.  If  such  misfortunes  are  sad  to  a  man,  they  are  still 
more  excruciating  to  a  woman ;  but  Mrs.  Hull  bore  up  under  all 
these  evils  like  a  philosopher  and  a  Christian,  believing  that  the 
day  would  come  when  all  aspersions  would  be  wiped  from  her 
husband's  escutcheon.  While  the  cloud  hung  upon  her  house, 
for  what  we  have  stated  is  not  all,  she  lost  a  gallant  son  in 
battle,  fighting  for  his  country ;  she  was  serene  and  dignified,  as 
if  nothing  had  happened.  Every  family  arrangement  was 
strictly  attended  to,  and  her  visitors  were  always  received  with 
a  freedom  and  complacency  that  took  away  all  restraint  on 
their  part.  After  having  been  restored  to  public  confidence,  and 
having  embraced  his  old  companion  in  arms,  Lafayette,  General 
Hull  died  in  the  fall  of  1825.  Mrs.  Hull  survived  him  less 
than  a  year,  and  died  in  August,  1826,  in  the  house  in  which 
she  was  born.  She  had  suffered  much,  but  bore  no  traces  of 
that  suffering.  She  died  as  one  who  had  seen  enough  of  life, 
and  was  ready  to  depart  in  the  Christian's  faith  of  happiness 
beyond  the  grave. 

Sarah  Hoffman.  Among  the  mothers  in  Israel  who  de- 
serve, from  continued  exertions,  in  the  cause  of  benevolence 
and  religion,  to  be  long  remembered  by  mankind,  is  Mrs.  Sarah 
Hoffman.  She  was  the  daughter  of  David  Ogden,  one  of  the 
judges  of  the  superior  court  of  New-Jersey,  when  that  state 
was  a  province  of  Great  Britain.  She  was  born  at  Newark,  in 
that  state,  September  8th,  1742.  Her  mother's  name  was 
Gertrude  Governeur,  a  woman  attentive  to  the  education  of  her 
children.  Sarah  Ogden  was  married  to  Mr.  Nicholas  Hoffman, 
November  1 4th,  1762,  by  whom  she  had  four  children,  two  of 
whom,  with  twenty-four  grand  children,  and  nine  great-grand 
children,  were  alive  at  the  time  of  her  death,  July  30th,  1821. 
In  her  early  days  she  was  provident,  charitable,  and  religious, 
and  took  delight  in  doing  all  the  good  she  could.     During  the 


I 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  265 

revolution,  she,  in  common  with  all  her  country-women,  saw 
evil  times.  Her  children  were  young,  and  her  means  impaired 
by  the  sanguinary  conflict,  and  of  course  her  charities  were  in 
a  measure  confined ;  but  if  her  hand  was  less  frequently  open  to 
relieve,  than  accorded  with  feelings,  her  heart  was  growing 
rich  in  benevolence,  and  she  was  suffered  to  live  until  she 
could  sympathize  and  succor  at  the  same  time.  She  was  a 
woman  of  sagacity,  and  saw  that  promiscuous  charities,  although 
they  gave  some  relief  for  the  moment,  were  not  often  judicious. 
She,  with  others  with  whom  she  communicated  freely,  among 
whom  were  Mrs.  Graham,  Macomb,  Bethune,  Startin,  Seton, 
Lowe,  Howe,  and  others,  in  1797,  established  a  society  for  the 
relief  of  poor  widows  with  small  children.  The  institution 
flourished  under  the  auspices  of  these  pious,  intelligent  women, 
and  was  the  means  of  saving  much  distress  and  suffering.  At 
a  stated  meeting  of  the  society,  in  April,  1803,  it  appeared  by  their 
report  that  "  ninety-eight  widows  and  two  hundred  and  twenty- 
three  children,  had,  by  their  means,  been  brought  through  the 
severity  of  the  winter,  with  a  considerable  degree  of  comfort." 
The  name  of  Mrs.  Hoffman,  in  the  act  of  incorporation,  was 
associated  with  that  Dorcas  of  charity,  Mrs.  Graham.  This 
society  was  established  on  broad  and  tolerant  principles.  "  It 
was,"  says  the  pious  and  liberal  Stanford,  whose  delicate  and 
feeling  account  of  this  lady  has  been  in  a  good  degree  our  guide, 
"  a  happy  trait,  in  the  formation  of  this  society,  and  still  con- 
tinues, that  objects  of  distress  be  relieved  without  the  shadow  of 
regard  either  to  national  distinction  or  to  religious  persuasion. 
It  is  presumed  that  this  society  was  not  only  the  first  of  the  kind 
established  in  America,  but  the  first  in  the  world  !  Information 
of  this  establishment  soon  reached  the  city  of  London,  and  pro- 
duced a  dictate  in  the  breasts  of  some  ladies  of  dis^ction,  to 
form  a  society  in  imitation  of  the  one  in  New  York ;  and  which 
was  supported  under  the  patronage  of  the  kind  duchess  of  York. 
When  one  of  the  managers  visited  London,  she  was  waited 
upon  by  several  ladies,  to  enquire  particularl}'-  into  the  manner 
of  conducting  this  society,  and  received  desirable  information." 

Good  father  Stanford  is  wrong  in  thinking  that  this  was  the 

4,0 


266  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

first  society  for  the  relief  of  the  widows  and  orphans  in  the 
world ;  more  than  half  of  the  monasteries  of  the  world  were 
established  for  the  self  same  purpose.  It  is  often  incorporated  in 
the  vow  of  pious  nuns,  to  feed  the  hungry,  and  clothe  the  naked, 
and  to  lead  the  blind.  What  Mrs.  Graham,  and  Mrs.  Hoffman, 
and  their  associates  did,  during"  the  ravages  of  the  yellow  fever, 
in  1798,  had  been  done  by  many  a  pious  nun  before  that  time 
and  since.  Mrs.  Hoffman  and  Graham,  and  their  associates, 
perambulated  the  districts  of  disease  and  desolation,  entered  the 
abodes  of  misery,  and  brought  consolation  to  wretchedness 
and  despair.  These  good  women  were  angels  of  mercy  and 
saved  thousands  ready  to  perish.  I  have  seen  warriors  arming 
for  the  battle  field,  philosophers  who  had  made  up  their  minds 
to  die,  and  duelists  in  the  crisis  of  honor,  all  of  gallant  bear- 
ing ;  but  this  courage  is  nothing  to  what  I  have  seen  from  a 
timid  female,  who  had  made  up  her  mind  to  go  where  duty  led, 
where  contagion  and  misery  had  taken  possession  of  the  dwell- 
ings of  poverty.  Talk  of  forlorn  hopes  of  the  Leonidean  bands, 
of  martyrs  here  and  there,  they  had  something  to  sustain  them 
that  came  from  the  world,  but  these  good  women  were  like  those  at 
the  tomb  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  when  even  their  hopes  were  lost. 
In  this  work  of  charity  they  did  not  stop  to  settle  a  creed,  to 
discover  who  professed  to  be  an  episcopalian,  or  a  presbyterian, 
a  baptist,  a  methodist,  or  any  other  sect,  their  Savior  led  the  way, 
and  they  followed. 

Mrs.  Graham  and  Mrs.  Hoffman,  hand  in  hand,  went  on 
together  in  the  paths  of  charity,  and  turned  off  only  for  a  mo- 
ment to  choose  their  own  shaped  altar,  before  which  to  kneel  to 
say  their  prayers  ;  and  this  worship  performed,  they  would  join 
again  to  travel  highways  and  byways,  in  search  of  objects  of 
charity  frojn  morn  until  night.  They  clambered  up  to  dank- 
some  garrets  to  find  the  wretched ;  they  descended  into  loath- 
some cellars  to  adminster  comfort  to  those  dying  in  the  dark 
vapors  of  a  dungeon.  They  did  not  hesitate  to  take  with  them 
medicine  for  the  sick,  food  for  the  halfstarved,  and  Christian 
consolation  for  the  sick  at  soul,  wretched  beings,  half  doubt- 
incr  even  the   o-oodness  of  the  God  who  made  them.     There 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  267 

is  a  sickness  that  comes  over  the  heart  in  these  abodes  of  poverty, 
closely  allied  to  blasphemy.  The  great  preacher  understood 
this  principle.  The  starving  have  seldom  a  thanksgiving  on  their 
dying  lips ;  but  as  these  angels  of  succor  came,  they  taught  these 
wretches,  as  they  fed  them,  how  to  pray  to  their  Father  in  heaven. 
If  these  good  Samaritans  had  recorded  their  adventures,  it  would 
have  made  series  of  tales  far  surpassing  the  ingenuity  of  fiction. 
But  their  labors  can  never  be  fully  known,  except  to  Him  who 
makes  up  the  record  of  the  book  of  life. 

Mrs.  Hoffman  was  not  only  a  woman  of  feeling  and  firmness, 
but  of  a  strong  mind,  which  is  fairly  proved  by  her  epistolary 
correspondence  to  Mrs.  Startin  and  others.  Those  who  visited 
her  while  she  was  on  her  death-bed,  have  borne  witness  to  the 
fervor  of  her  faith  and  to  the  strength  of  her  intellect.  May 
thousands  emulate  the  beauties  of  her  life. 


Sarah  Hall,  was  born  at  Philadelphia,  on  the  30th  of  Octo- 
ber, 1761.  She  was  daughter  of  John  Ewing,  D.  D.,  who  was 
for  many  years  provost  of  Pennsylvania  University,  and  pastor 
of  a  presbyterian  church  in  that  city.  He  was  distinguished 
for  his  attainments  as  a  scholar  and  a  divine.  Mrs.  Hall  was 
thoroughly  educated  in  every  household  duty  by  her  excellent 
mother.  She  was  married  young,  and  reared  a  large  family, 
and  made  the  most  judicious  use  of  all  the  means  put  into  her 
hands.  Her  father  had  not  given  much  attention  to  her  educa- 
tion, no  more  than  social  instruction  would  go  in  his  leisure 
hours,  and  this  may  be  farther  than  is  generally  imagined. 
There  is  much  to  be  gained  in  a  family  circle,  when  the  mem- 
bers are  intellectual,  and  devoted  to  cultivating  their  minds. 
Every  thing  is  discussed  with  so  much  fairness  in  a  well  regu- 
lated family ;  thus  even  errors  of  opinion  are  made  subservient 
to  truth.  Where  good  English  is  used,  and  conversation  is 
free,  the  youthful  mind  is  every  hour  gaining  information,  and 
improving  that  which  has  been  gained.  In  this  fireside  circle 
she  made  herself  mistress  of  the  English  grammar  at  a  very 
early  period  of  life,  and  tested  her  knowledge  by  all  the  best 
writers  of  the  age.     She  was  fond  of  the  sciences,  and  availed 


268  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY, 

herself  of  all  the  advantages  of  her  situation,  to  become  familiar 
with  the  sublimest  of  them  all,  astronomy.  Near  a  college  these 
advantages  are  usually  greater  than  at  other  places. 

In  1782  she  was  married  to  James  Hall,  Esq.,  the  son  of  a 
wealthy  planter  of  Maryland,  and  removed  with  him  to  a  farm 
in  that  state,  and  entered  upon  her  duties,  as  the  wife  of  an  agri- 
culturist, with  great  zeal.  She  not  only  looked  carefully  to  all 
her  expenditures,  but  at  the  same  time  was  equally  careful  to 
improve  her  mind  by  miscellaneous  and  systematic  reading. 
After  five  years  of  retirement,  her  family  removed  to  Philadel- 
phia, where  her  husband  first  had  the  appointment  of  secretary 
to  the  land  office,  and  was  afterwards  made  marshal  of  the 
United  States  for  the  district  of  Pennsylvania,  the  duties  of 
which  offices  he  discharged  with  fidelity  and  honor.  In  this  city- 
she  had  the  pleasure  of  enjoying  the  acquaintance  of  a  learned 
and  social  circle,  which  is  always  necessary  to  polish  a  superior 
mind.  Philadelphia  was  then  the  Athens  of  the  United  States. 
When  literature  was  considered  only  as  a  household,  not  a 
foreign  commodity,  she  was  sought  for  by  all  who  valued  letters, 
or  who  had  a  wish  to  see  the  progress  of  learning  in  our  country. 

In  1800,  when  Joseph  Dennie  established  his  periodical  "  The 
Port  Folio,"  in  that  city,  Mrs.  Hall  was  solicited  to  be  a  con- 
tributor, for  her  acquirements  in  literature  were  well  known  to 
Dennie  and  his  classical  club.  Dennie,  with  all  his  faults,  was 
never  charged  with  underrating  genius,  but  he  was  too  fastidious 
to  admit  any  thing  into  his  Port  Folio,  that  had  not  taste  and 
talent  in  it ;  perhaps  in  this  he  was  too  particular,  for  he  thought 
more  of  taste  than  talent,  more  of  the  form  than  the  matter.  He 
was  anxious  to  engage  the  sprightly  pen  of  Mrs.  Hall,  for  at 
that  time  a  more  buoyant  spirit  could  not  be  found  in  the  lite- 
rary circles  of  our  country,  Her  disposition  was  cheerful  and 
she  looked  on  the  bright  side  of  every  thing.  At  her  hospita- 
ble mansion,  the  feverish  scholar  found  more  charms  to  cure  his 
misanthropy  than  could  be  found  elsewhere.  If  Dennie  had 
outlived  her,  he  would,  in  the  fulness  of  his  soul,  have  borne 
testimony  to  all  this ;  but  heaven  decreed  that  she  should  sur- 
vive him  many  years.     When  the  evil  spirit  came  over  him,  as 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  269 

he  does  over  all  beings  who  are  regardless  of  themselves,  he 
went,  to  use  his  own  words,  to  the  house  of  Mrs.  Hall,  to  drive 
off  all  his  blue  devils.  Her  conversation  abounded  in  classical 
recollections,  in  playful  remarks,  and  in  delicate  satire,  and,  like 
the  harp  of  David,  gave  new  soul  and  life  to  the  gloomy  editor. 
After  Dennie's  death,  the  Port  Folio  came  into  the  hands  of  her 
son,  John  E.  Hall,  who  conducted  it  for  more  than  ten  years. 
She,  from  affection  and  duty,  then  became  a  constant  contributor 
to  the  work.  He  considered  her  as  his  main  stay  in  all  those 
articles  which  attract  for  their  good  humor,  and  secure  the  reader 
by  the  purity  of  their  principles  and  the  beauty  of  their  style. 
This  son  was  near  and  dear  to  her,  he  was  her  first  born.  She 
had  taken  great  pains  with  his  education  from  the  cradle ;  and 
by  all  he  was  considered  as  a  tasteful,  honorable,  intellectual 
scholar.  His  course,  perhaps,  had  not  entirely  gratified  her 
ambition  :  he  was  educated  a  lawyer,  but  entering  into  politics 
when  young,  he  was  seduced  from  his  profession,  while  at  Balti- 
more, by  that  galaxy  of  genius  which  then  spanned  the  political 
horizon,  Hanson,  Grosvenor,  and  others ;  and  he  used  his  pen  to 
assert  national  rights  and  political  views,  when  he  should  have 
been,  in  justice  to  himself,  drawing  declarations,  and  arguing 
causes.  This  has  been  the  fate  of  many  a  superior  genius.  No 
country  on  the  globe  has  ever  had  so  many  sacrifices  in  this 
way  as  our  own,  in  proportion  to  numbers.  It  is  painful  to  look 
back  on  the  catalogue  of  those  who  promised  much  in  their  pro- 
fessions, who  have  lost  the  world  for  politics  and  literature.  The 
charms  of  general  literature  are  seducing,  but  the  remuneration 
of  the  editor  is  scanty,  and  the  brightest  genius  sees  himself 
poor  and  dependent,  Avhile  some  plodding  creature  is  growing 
thrifty  by  cautious  perseverance  and  timely  exertions.  Even  if 
political  distinction  is  the  goal  of  the  aspirant,  he  frequently 
finds  some  stupid  being,  that  he  would  not  have  condescended  to 
have  put  in  comparison  with  himself  for  a  moment,  in  the  pre- 
liminary stages  of  his  course,  foistered  into  office  by  some  burst  of 
infernal  smoke  in  politics,  or  by  some  accidental  disagreement 
among  his  superiors.  Mrs.  Hall  saw,  to  her  great  gratification, 
that  her  son  never  compromised  a  principle,  or  yielded  a  well 

23* 


270  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

fixed  sentiment,  to  gain  wealth  or  fame.  He  was  devoted  to  litera- 
ture, and  looked  forward  to  the  time,  perhaps,  when  his  country 
would  do  justice  to  the  early  martyrs  in  the  cause. 

Mrs.  Hall  experienced  many  of  the  vicissitudes  of  human 
life ;  she  had  enjoyed  the  pleasures  of  affluence,  and  had  known 
the  miseries  of  poverty.  She  had  removed  from  place  to  place, 
accommodating  herself  to  the  fortunes  of  her  husband,  and 
every  where  had  cherished  him  with  kindness,  and  softened  the 
asperities  of  his  fate.  She  had  felt  the  maternal  pang,  the  loss 
of  children ;  some  had  died  in  infancy,  one  when  entering  upon 
manhood,  and  another  when  he  had  commenced  his  course  of 
professional  celebrity.  These  are  indeed  trials  to  a  mothers 
heart,  which  none  but  a  mother  can  know.  But  she  still  support- 
ed that  serenity  of  mind  which  is  only  the  lot  of  the  enlightened 
Christian.  Her  mind  was  constantly  active ;  she  Avrote  upon 
many  interesting  topics  ;  upon  "  The  Extent  of  Female  Influence, 
and  on  the  importance  of  exciting  it  in  favor  of  Christianity ;" 
on  "  The  Defence  of  American  Women."  These  were  general 
topics  on  which  she  not  only  wrote,  but  conversed  from  day  to 
day,  when  it  might  do  any  good.  If  our  limits  permitted,  we 
might  make  many  valuable  extracts  from  her  works,  but  must 
refer  our  readers  to  the  writings  of  this  excellent  woman,  which 
are  a  treasure  to  every  female. 

Her  opinions  came  from  one  who  knew  all  the  pulses  of  a 
woman's  heart,  and  who  had  noted  the  effect  of  every  change 
of  feeling,  and  every  form  of  sentiment  upon  her  character.  From 
such  a  one,  moral  precepts  are  beyond  all  price. 

Mrs.  Hall  died  at  Philadelphia  on  the  fourth  of  April,  1830, 
in  the  sixty-ninth  year  of  her  age,  respected  by  all  who  knew 
her.  Since  her  death,  a  memoir  of  this  excellent  woman  has 
been  published,  Avith  some  morsels  of  her  writings  ;  but  to  know 
the  value  of  such  a  one,  we  should  be  able  to  trace  all  the  sweet 
influences  she  has  shed  upon  moral,  intellectual,  and  religious 
society,  from  the  morning  of  her  life  to  its  close.  It  is  grievous 
to  think,  that  while  here  and  there  one  noble  mother  is  mention- 
ed, as  it  were  on  the  margin  of  a  leaf  in  history,  thousands  pass 
away  without  a  memorial. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY,  271 

St.  Hilda,  princess  of  Scotland,  was  learned  in  scripture, 
and  composed  many  religious  works.  She  opposed  strenuously 
the  tonsure  of  the  priests,  supposing  it,  perhaps,  a  superstitious 
or  a  heathenish  observance.  She  built  the  convent  of  Fare,  of 
which  she  became  abbess,  and  died  therein  685. 


Heoswitta,  a  nun  of  the  abbey  of  Pandershiem,  was  born  in 
Saxony,  and  flourished  in  the  eleventh  century  under  the  reign 
of  Otho  II.,  who  employed  her  to  write  the  funeral  oration  of  his 
father.  She  composed  in  Latin  many  religious  books,  which  were 
collected  in  one  folio  volume,  printed  at  Nuremburgh,  in  1501. 


Isabella  of  Castile.  This  illustrious  woman  was  the 
daughter  of  John  II,  king  of  Castile  and  Leon,  and  born  in 
1450,  four  years  before  the  death  of  her  father.  King  John, 
after  a  long,  turbulent,  and  unhappy  reign,  died  at  Medina  del 
Campo,  leaving  by  his  first  wife,  Maria  of  Arragon,  a  son,  Don 
Henry,  who  succeeded  him ;  and  by  his  second  wife,  Isabella  of 
Portugal,  two  children  in  their  infancy,  Alphonso  and  Isabella. 

Alphonso  died  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  and  the  party  of  nobles 
opposed  to  Henry,  immediately  resolved  to  place  Isabella  at 
their  head.  When  their  deputies  waited  upon  her  with  the  offer 
of  a  crown,  she  replied,  that  "  it  Avas  not  theirs  to  bestow ;  and 
that  while  her  elder  brother  Henry  existed,  nothing  should  in- 
duce her  to  assume  a  title  which  was  his  by  the  laws  of  God 
and  man  ;"  at  the  same  time  she  claimed  her  right  of  succession, 
and  the  title  of  princess  of  Austurias,  which  belonged  to  her  as 
heiress  to  the  throne.  The  chiefs  Avere  astonished  and  discon- 
certed at  a  reply  which  left  them  without  an  excuse  for  revolt. 
Having  in  vain  endeavored  to  overcome  her  scruples,  they  con- 
cluded a  treaty  with  Henry,  the  most  humiliating,  certainlj^, 
that  ever  was  extorted  from  a  father  and  a  king.  By  this  treaty, 
he  acknowledged  his  reputed  daughter  Joanna,  to  be  illegitimate; 
he  consented  to  set  aside  her  claims  entirely,  and  declared  Isa- 
bella his  heiress  and  successor. 

At  such  a  price  did  this  despicable  monarch  purchase,  for  a 
few  years  longer,  the  empty  title  of  king,  forfeiting,  at  the  same 


272  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

time,  all  kingly  attributes,  as  love,  obedience,  honor,  power; 
being  a  husband,  he  had  branded  his  own  name  with  ignominy; 
and  being  a  father,  had  disgraced  and  disinherited  his  unoffending 
child. 

The  most  important  object  of  the  malcontent  party,  was  to 
select  from  among  many  aspirants,  a  fit  consort  for  Isabella. 
The  king  of  Portugal  made  overtures  for  himself;  Louis  II. 
asked  her  in  marriage  for  his  brother,  the  Duke  de  Guienne ; 
Edward  IV.,  of  England,  offered  his  brother,  the  Duke  of  Cla- 
rence, who  was  afterwards  drowned  in  a  butt  of  malmsey ;  and 
the  king  of  Arragon  asked  her  hand  for  his  son  Don  Ferdinand. 
The  latter  was  preferred  by  Isabella  herself,  as  well  as  by  all 
her  party ;  but  as  it  was  the  interest  of  her  brother  Henry  to 
throw  every  possible  impediment  in  the  way  of  such  a  marriage, 
the  archbishop  of  Toledo  carried  Isabella  privately  to  Vallado- 
lid,  where  Ferdinand  met  her  in  disguise,  and  the  articles  being 
previously  prepared,  and  on  principles  the  most  favorable  to 
Isabella  and  her  future  kingdom,  Ferdinand  subscribed  to  them 
at  once,  and  received  from  the  archbishop  the  hand  of  the  young 
princess. 

Isabella,  at  the  time  of  her  marriage,  had  just  entered  her 
twentieth  year,  and  Ferdinand  was  a  few  months  younger  than 
his  bride.  Within  a  few  days  after  the  nuptial  ceremony, 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella  were  obliged  to  separate;  the  prince 
retired  from  Valladolid  as  privately  as  he  had  entered  it,  and 
during  the  next  two  or  three  years,  it  appears,  from  the  course  of 
events,  that  they  met  seldom,  and  at  long  intervals. 

When  Henry  found  that  this  dreaded  marriage  had  been  so- 
lemnized, without  his  knowledge  or  consent,  he  was  struck 
at  once  with  rage  and  terror  ;  he  revoked  the  treaty  he  had  made 
in  Isabella's  favor,  declared  his  daughter  Joanna  his  only  legal 
heir,  and  civil  war  again  distracted  and  desolated  the  kingdom 
for  more  than  three  years.  In  1474,  Isabella  proposed  an  inter- 
view with  her  brother,  and  they  met  at  Segovia ;  she  employed 
on  this  occasion  all  the  eloquence,  all  the  powers  of  persuasion 
she  possessed,  as  a  woman,  and  all  the  ascendency  which  her 
superior  energy  and  spirit  gave  her  over  the  feeble,  vacillating 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  273 

mind  of  the  king,  to  procure  a  reconciliation ;  when  Henry- 
appeared  inclined  to  yield,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  lead  her 
palfrey,  as  she  rode  through  the  streets  of  Segovia.  Isabella  sent 
for  her  husband,  as  if  merely  to  pay  his  dutiful  respects  to  his 
brother  in  law.  They  appeared  in  public  together,  entertained 
each  other  with  seeming  cordiality,  and  thus,  by  her  address 
Isabella  led  on  her  brother,  apparently,  to  countenance  those 
pretensions  which  he  had  himself  denied.  At  the  end  of  the 
same  year,  the  death  of  Henry  opened  a  surer  road  to  peace ; 
he  died  of  a  fever  in  December,  1474.  His  minister,  Villena, 
had  died  a  short  time  before ;  and  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  were 
immediately,  and  almost  without  opposition,  proclaimed  king 
and  queen  of  Castile. 

The  archbishop  of  Teledo,  who  had  been  so  instrumental  in 
placing  Isabella  on  the  throne,  and  the  chief  negociator  of  her 
marriage,  believed  himself  now  at  the  summit  of  power,  and 
expected  every  thing  from  the  gratitude  or  the  weakness  of  the 
young  queen  ;  he  was  very  much  surprised  to  find  that  the  Car- 
dinal Mondoza  had  at  least  an  equal  share  of  influence  and  favor, 
and  that  Isabella  was  not  of  a  character  to  leave  the  govern- 
ment in  the  hands  of  another.     He  was  heard  to  say  tauntingly, 
•'  that  he  would  soon  make  Isabella  lay  down  her  sceptre,  and 
take  up  the  distaff  again."     But  it  was  not  so  easy,  and  the  am- 
bitious archbishop,  quitting  the  court  in  a  fit  of  jealousy  and  dis- 
gust, threw  himself  into  the  party  of  Joanna,  whose  pretensions 
were  supported  by  the  young  marquis  of  Villena  and  other 
nobles.     Alphonso,  king  of  Portugal,  also  engaged  in  the  cause 
of  Joanna,  upon  condition  that  she  should  be  contracted  to  him, 
although  he  was  her  uncle,  and  more  than  twice  her  age.     He 
accordingly  invaded  Castile  with  a  powerful  army,  and  Joanna 
proclaimed  queen  at  Placentia.     But  Ferdinand,  who  possessed 
consummate  skill  as  a  general,  engaged  the  Portuguese  at  Toro, 
defeated  them,  and  obliged  Alphonso  to  retire  to  his  own  king- 
dom.    The  disaffected  nobles  submitted  one  after  another  to  the 
power  of  Isabella,  and  Castile  breathed  at  last  from  the  horrors 
of  civil  war.     As  for  the  poor  Princess  Joanna,  whose  destiny 
it  was  to  be  disgraced  and  unfortunate,  through  the  vices  of  her 


274  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

parents,  after  being  the  affianced  bride  of  several  princes,  who 
all,  one  after  another,  disclaimed  her,  when  she  could  no  longer 
bring  a  crown  for  her  dowry,  she  at  last  sought  refuge  in  a 
convent,  where  she  took  the  veil  at  the  age  of  twenty,  and  died 
a  nun. 

Thus  Isabella  remained  without  a  competitor,  and  was  ac- 
knowledged queen  of  Castile  and  Leon ;  and  three  years  after 
the  battle  of  Toro,  the  death  of  his  father,  raised  Ferdinand  to 
the  throne  of  Arragon ;  the  kingdoms  of  Castile  and  Arragon 
were  thenceforward  united  indissolubly,  though  still  indepen- 
dent of  each  other. 

The  first  great  event  of  the  reign  of  the  two  sovereigTis  was 
the  war  of  Granada.  Hostility  against  the  Moors  seems  to  have 
been  the  hereditary  appanage  of  the  crown  of  Castile ;  and  it 
was  one  of  the  principle  articles  in  Isabella's  marriage  treaty, 
that  Ferdinand  should  lead  the  armies  of  the  queen  against  the 
infidels,  as  soon  as  the  affairs  of  the  kingdom  allowed  him  to 
do  so.  The  Spaniards  fought  for  honor,  dominion,  and  the  in- 
terest of  the  church ;  the  Moors  fought  for  their  homes  and 
hearths,  their  faith,  their  country,  and  their  very  existence  as  a 
nation. 

The  kingdom  of  Granada  extended  along  the  south  of  Spain, 
for  about  one  hundred  and  eighty  miles,  and  between  the  moun- 
tains and  the  sea ;  its  breadth  was  about  seventy  miles ;  yet  this 
narrow  space  was  filled  with  populous  cities,  enriched  by  agri- 
culture and  commerce,  defended  by  strong  fortresses,  and  in- 
habited by  a  wealthy,  warlike,  and  industrious  race  of  people. 
Nearly  in  the  centre  of  the  kingdom  stood  the  royal  city  of 
Granada,  on  two  lofty  hills,  the  one  crowned  by  the  glorious 
palace  of  the  Alhambra,  within  whose  splendid  courts,  forty 
thousand  persons  might  have  been  lodged  and  entertained ;  the 
other  by  the  citadel  of  Alcazaba.  The  sides  of  these  hills  and 
the  valleys  between  them,  were  occupied  by  houses  and  palaces 
to  the  number  of  seventy  thousand,  and  Granada  alone  could 
send  forth  from  her  gates  twenty  thousand  fighting  men.  Around 
this  noble  city  stretched  the  Vega,  or  Plain  of  Granada,  which 
resembled  one  vast  and  beautiful  garden,  in  the  highest  state  of 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  275 

cultivation ;  there  flourished  the  citron  and  the  orange,  the 
pomegranate  and  the  fig-tree ;  the  olive  poured  forth  its  oil,  and 
the  vine  its  purple  juice.  On  one  side,  a  range  of  snowy  moun- 
tains seemed  to  fence  it  from  hostile  neighbors ;  on  the  other, 
the  blue  Mediterranean  washed  its  shores,  and  poured  into  its 
harbors  the  treasures  of  Africa  and  the  Levant.  Nor  were 
the  inhabitants  of  this  terrestrial  Eden  unmindful  or  unworthy 
of  its  glorious  loveliness.  They  believed  themselves  pecu- 
liarly favored  by  heaven,  in  being  placed  on  a  spot  of  earth  so 
enchanting,  that  they  fancied  the  celestial  paradise  must  be  sus- 
pended immediately  over  it,  and  could  alone  exceed  it  in  delight. 
Their  patriotism  had  something  in  it  romantic  and  tender, 
like  the  passion  of  a  lover  for  his  mistress ;  they  clung  to 
their  beautiful  country  with  a  yearning  affection ;  they  poured 
their  blood  like  water  in  its  defence ;  they  celebrated  its  charms, 
and  lamented  its  desolation  in  those  sweet  and  beautiful  ballads 
which  are  yet  extant,  and  which  can  yet  draw  tears  from  their 
Christian  conquerors. 

Long  before  the  last  invasion  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  the 
Moorish  power  had  been  on  the  decline.  They  had  once  pos- 
sessed nearly  the  whole  of  the  peninsula,  from  the  strait  of  Gib- 
ralter  to  the  Pyrenees ;  but  had,  by  degrees,  been  driven  south- 
ward by  the  Christian  powers,  until  they  were  circumscribed 
within  the  boundaries  of  Granada. 

The  Castilian  sovereigns,  great  as  were  their  resources  and 
power,  had  to  endure  some  signal  reverses.  In  truth,  the  Moors 
made  a  glorious  stand  for  their  national  honor  and  independence; 
and  had  it  not  been  for  their  own  internal  divisions  and  distracted 
councils,  which  gave  them  over  a  prey  to  their  conquerors,  their 
subjection,  which  cost  such  a  lavish  expenditure  of  blood,  and 
oil,  and  treasure,  had  been  more  dearly  purchased ;  perhaps 
the  issue  had  been  altogether  different.  The  war  of  Granada 
lasted  ten  years,  and  with  the  surrender  of  the  capital,  terminated 
the  dominion  of  the  Moors  in  Spain,  which,  dating  from  the 
defeat  of  Roderick,  the  last  of  the  Goths,  had  endured  seven 
hundred  and  seventy-eight  years. 

During  the  last  iew  years  of  her  life,  Isabella  was  gradually 


276  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHV. 

crushed  to  the  earth  hy  a  series  of  domestic  calamities,  which 
no  human  wisdom  could  have  averted,  and  for  which  no  earthly 
prosperity  could  afford  consolation. 

In  1496,  her  mother,  the  queen  dowager  of  Castile,  died  in 
her  arms.  The  queen's  most  beloved  daughter,  the  princess 
Isabella,  lost  her  young  husband,  Alphonso  of  Portugal,  who 
was  killed  by  a  fall  from  a  horse,  four  months  after  their  mar- 
riage, and  her  only  son,  Don  Juan,  died  of  a  fever  a  few  months 
after  his  union  with  Margaret  of  Austria.  Several  years 
after  the  death  of  Alphonso,  the  princess  Isabella,  bestowed  her 
hand  on  Emanuel,  who  had  ascended  the  throne  of  Portugal. 
This  daughter,  whom  Isabella  appears  to  have  loved  and  trusted 
beyond  every  human  being,  died  in  childbirth  at  Toledo,  be- 
queathing to  her  mother's  care  a  beautiful  but  feeble  infant,  the 
heir  to  Castile,  Arragon,  and  Granada,  to  Portugal,  Navarre, 
Naples,  Sicily,  and  to  all  the  opening  glories  of  the  eastern  and 
western  world.  As  if  crushed  beneath  the  burden  of  such 
magnificent  destinies,  the  child  pined  away  and  died.  These 
successive  losses  followed  so  quick  one  upon  another,  that  it 
seemed  as  if  the  hand  of  Heaven  had  doomed  the  house  of  Fer- 
dinand and  Isabella  to  desolation. 

The  princess  Joanna,  now  her  heiress,  had  married  the  arch- 
duke Phillip,  of  Austria,  who  was  remarkable  for  his  gay  man- 
ners and  captivating  person;  the  marriage  had  been  one  of 
mere  policy  on  his  part.  But  the  poor  princess,  who,  unhappily 
for  herself,  to  a  plain  person  and  infirm  health,  added  strong  pas- 
sions and  great  sensibility,  had  centered  all  her  affections  in  her 
husband,  whom  she  regarded  with  a  fond  and  exclusive  idolatry, 
while  he  returned  her  attachment  with  the  most  negligent  cool- 
ness. Though  Isabella  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  Joanna  a 
mother,  though  she  pressed  in  her  arms  a  grandson,  (afterwards 
the  Emperor  Charles  V.,)  whose  splendid  destinies,  if  she  could 
have  beheld  them  through  the  long  lapse  of  years,  might  in  part 
have  consoled  her,  yet  the  feeble  health  of  this  infant,  and  the 
sight  of  her  daughter's  misery,  imbittered  her  days.  At  length, 
on  the  departure  of  Phillip  for  the  low  countries,  the  unhappy 
Joanna  gave  way  to  such  transports  of  grief,  that  it  ended  in  the 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  277 

complete  bereavement  of  her  senses.  To  this  terrible  blow  was 
added  another;  for  about  the  same  time,  the  news  arrived  that 
Cath erine  of  Arragon  had  lost  her  young  husband,  Prince  Arthur. 
Isabella's  maternal  heart,  wounded  in  the  early  death  or  pro- 
tracted sorrows  of  her  children,  had  no  hope,  no  consolation. 
She  pined  away,  lovely  in  her  grandeur,  till  the  deep  melancholy 
of  her  mind  seized  on  her  constitution,  and  threw  her  into  a 
rapid  decline.  She  expired  at  Medina  del  Campo,  after  a  lin- 
gering illness  of  four  months,  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  November, 
1505,  in  the  fifty-fourth  year  of  her  age,  having  reigned  thirty- 
one  years. 


Esther  Inglis,  a  lady  eminent  for  her  skill  in  calligraphy. 
In  the  beauty,  exactness,  and  variety  of  her  characters,  she  ex- 
celled all  who  had  preceded  her.  A  specimen  of  her  delicate 
and  beautiful  writing  was,  in  1711,  in  possession  of  Mr.  Samuel 
Hello,  her  great  grandson.  Others  were  deposited  in  the  castle 
at  Edinburgh.  In  the  library  of  Christ  church,  Oxford,  are  the 
Psalms  of  David,  written  in  French  by  Mrs.  Inglis,  who  pre- 
sented them  in  person  to  queen  Elizabeth,  by  whom  they  were 
given  to  the  library.  Two  manuscripts,  written  by  Mrs.  Inglis, 
were  also  preserved  with  care  in  the  Bodlein  library.  The  fol- 
lowing address  is  in  the  second  leaf,  writt<^n  in  capital  letters : 
"  To  the  right  worshipful,  my  very  singular  friend,  Joseph  Hall, 
doctor  of  divinity,  and  dean  of  Winchester,  Esther  Inglis  wishes 
all  increase  of  true  happiness,  June  21st,  1617."  In  the  third 
leaf  is  pasted  the  head  of  the  writer,  painted  upon  a  card.  Every 
chapter  of  this  curious  performance  is  written  in  a  different  hand, 
as  is  also  the  dedication.  The  manuscript  contains  nearly  forty 
different  characters  of  writing.  The  beginnings  and  endings 
of  the  chapters  are  adorned  with  beautiful  head  and  tail  pieces, 
and  the  marquis,  in  imitation  of  the  old  manuscripts,  curiously 
decorated  with  the  pen.  The  book  is  dedicated  to  the  earl  of 
Essex.  On  one  of  the  first  pages  are  his  arms,  neatly  drawn, 
with  all  their  quarterings.  In  the  fifth  leaf,  drawn  with  a  pen, 
is  a  picture  of  Esther  Inglis,  in  the  habit  of  the  times ;  her  right 

hand  holds  a  pen,  the  left  rests  upon  an  open  book,  on  one  of 

24 


278  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

the  leaves  in  which  is  written,  "  De  I'Eternel  le  bien  de  moi 
le  mal  ou  rien."  A  music  book  lies  open  before  her.  Under 
the  picture  is  a  Latin  epigram,  by  Andrew  Melvin,  and  on  the 
following-  page  a  second,  by  the  same  author,  in  praise  of  Mrs. 
Inglis.  In  the  royal  library  are  "Esther  Inglis'  Fifty  Em- 
blems," finely  drawTi  and  written.  Mrs.  Inglis  appears  to  have 
lived  unmarried  until  she  was  about  forty  years  of  age,  when 
she  became  the  wife  of  Bartholomew  Kellow,  a  Scotchman. 


Ann  H.  Judson.  The  pioneers  in  every  great  work,  if  it  was 
only  for  their  enterprise,  should  be  held  in  remembrance ;  but 
when  they  are  of  importance,  by  weight  of  character  or  genius, 
as  it  often  happens,  they  should  be,  in  various  ways,  given  as  an 
example  to  the  public.  The  first  female  in  this  country  who 
made  up  her  mind  to  become  a  missionary  to  the  East  Indies, 
was  Mrs.  Ann  H.  Judson,  She  was  the  daughter  of  John  and 
Rebecca  Hazeltine.  She  was  born  in  Bradford,  a  lovely  town 
on  the  right  bank  of  the  Merrimack,  in  Essex  county,  Massachu- 
setts, on  the  twenty-second  of  December,  1789.  She  was  a 
spirited,  fine  girl,  and  had  the  good  fortune  to  live  in  a  town, 
where  attention  was  paid  to  the  education  of  both  sexes.  When 
she  was  about  twelve  years  of  age,  an  academy,  with  a  male  and 
female  department,  was  established  in  Bradford,  and  she  was 
sent  to  it  for  her  education,  during  the  spring,  summer,  and  fall 
months.  In  1806,  she  became  a  professor  of  religion,  and  from 
a  laughter  loving  girl,  the  joy  of  the  social  circle,  and  the  pride 
of  the  ball  room,  she  became  abstracted  from  the  pleasures  of 
the  world,  and  devoted  her  time  to  acquiring  knowledge,  and  in 
improving  her  heart  in  religious  exercises.  In  1807,  the  writer 
of  this  narrative  attended  an  examination  of  the  scholars  at 
Bradford  Academy,  when  Miss  Hazeltine  was  adjudged  to  be 
the  best  scholar  in  the  school.  She  was  then  remarkably  beau- 
tiful, and  was  among  many  well  educated  young  ladies,  of 
highly  respectable  families ;  but  she  bore  her  honors  so  meekly, 
that  she  was  the  general  favorite.  There  seemed  not  to  be  a 
spark  of  envy  towards  her  among  them  all.  She  often  adjusted 
those  little  disputes  which  spring  up  in  every  seminary,  and 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  279 

sometimes,  if  not  settled  at  once,  produce  lasting  effects.  For  seve- 
ral years  after  leaving  the  academy  at  Bradford,  Miss  Hazeltine 
was  engaged  in  school  keeping,  in  some  of  the  towns  neigh- 
boring to  that  of  her  birth,  and  was  held  in  repute  as  an  instruc- 
tress. Her  fame  was  in  all  the  churches,  and  of  course  had 
reached  the  ears  of  the  young  missionaries,  then  about  to  be  sent 
to  India,  to  carry  the  glad  tidings  of  the  gospel  to  the  Hindoos. 
Mr.  Judson,  one  of  those  missionaries,  sought  her,  and  found 
she  was  all  that  fondest  admirers  had  said  of  her.  He  wooed 
and  won  her,  with  a  full  knowledge  of  his  intentions  of  going 
to  India,  and  that  she  was  to  accompany  him.  The  other  mis- 
sionaries had  not  then  proposed  themselves  to  the  young  ladies 
that  they  afterwards  married,  so  that  in  fact.  Miss  Hazeltine  was 
the  first  who  made  up  her  mind  to  engage  in  this  enterprise,  of 
carrying  light  to  the  dark  regions  of  the  east,  from  whence 
light  once  emanated.  She  was  married  to  Mr.  Judson,  on  the 
fifth  of  January  1812,  and  sailed  on  the  nineteenth  of  the  same 
month,  from  Salem  for  Calcutta.  Mr.  Judson  had  changed  his 
sentiments  on  the  subject  of  baptism,  while  on  his  voyage,  and 
of  course,  he  came  under  the  direction  and  patronage  of  a  dif- 
ferent sect  than  the  one  that  had  sent  him  abroad. 

The  head  quarters  of  the  Baptist  mission  was  at  Rangoon,  in 
the  Burman  empire,  about  seven  hundred  miles  from  Calcutta. 
Here  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson  began  to  learn  the  language  of  the 
country  and  made  rapid  progress  in  their  studies.  But  difficul- 
ties and  dangers  surrounded  them,  and  for  these  they  were  pre- 
pared by  moral  discipline.  They  had  the  enthusiasm  and  high 
feeling  of  the  ancient  crusades,  without  any  particle  of  the  combat 
stirring  spirit  which  animated  the  soul  of  St.  Lewis.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Judson  wrote  tracts  in  the  Burman  language,  and  made 
some  excitement  among  the  natives.  In  1820,  Mrs.  Judson 
made  an  attempt  to  prevail  upon  the  emperor  to  suffer  her  hus- 
band to  preach  and  propagate  the  Christian  religion  in  the  em- 
pire, but  without  avail.  In  consequence  of  ill  health,  in  1821, 
Mrs,  Judson  left  Rangoon  and  repaired  to  Calcutta,  and  from 
thence  sailed  to  England,  where  she  staid  some  time,  and  then 
sailed  to  New  York.     She  then  visited  her  native  town  for  a 


280  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

short  time.  All  were  happy  to  see  her,  although  she  no  longer 
wore  the  bloom  of  youth,  nor  moved  with  the  elastic  step  of  her 
days  of  health.  Yet  she  was  still  interesting  in  person,  and 
fascinating  in  her  manners.  The  rose  had  given  place  to  the 
lily,  and  that  lily  had  become  tinged  with  intolerable  suns. 
She  left  Bradford,  as  the  winter  approached,  and  spent  the  cold 
months  in  Baltimore  and  Washington,  and  gained  strength 
every  day.  During  this  winter  she  wrote  the .  history  of  the 
Burman  mission.  This  was  a  work  of  talent  and  faithfulness. 
Wherever  she  traveled  she  made  friends,  and  was,  without 
exception,  the  most  enlightened  advocate  for  missions  that  ever 
participated  in  missionary  labors.  In  June,  1823,  she  sailed 
from  this  country  for  India,  and  arrived  there  in  October,  and 
shortly  afterwards  repaired  to  Rangoon  which  they  soon  left 
for  the  capital  Ava.  Just  as  they  were  getting  under  way 
in  their  missionary  labors,  the  Burmese  war  broke  out.  The 
Bengal  government  invaded  Burmah,  in  the  spring  of  1824. 
The  war  was  a  bloody  one  to  the  Burmese.  Chief  after 
chief  was  beaten,  and  the  king,  in  his  ignorance  and  wrath, 
suspected  Mr.  Judson  to  be  a  spy  and  agent  for  the  British 
government,  and  forthwith  sent  him,  with  other  missionaries,  to 
prison.  He  was  confined  for  a  year  and  a  half,  sometimes  in 
two  pair  of  fetters,  and  a  part  of  his  time  with  five  pair  of  irons. 
His  sufferings  were  excruciating,  and  he  would  in  all  proba- 
hility  have  sunk  under  them,  if  his  wife  had  not  made  him  daily 
visits,  although  she  lived  more  than  two  miles  from  the  prison. 
The  food  allowed  to  the  prisoners  was  execrable,  and  all  the 
Europeans  would  have  perished  if  she  had  not  brought  food, 
dressed  by  her  own  hands,  for  their  relief.  She  also  made 
applications  to  the  king  for  their  release,  but  for  a  long  time  to 
no  effect,  but  at  last  her  eloquence  and  perseverance  made  an 
impression,  on  "  the  monarch  of  golden  breath,''^  and  he  be- 
gan to  think  that  she,  and  even  her  husband,  might  be  honest, 
and  listened  with  some  complacency  to  the  appeals  she  made  to 
him  to  negotiate  for  peace  with  the  British.  These  appeals, 
written  in  elegant  Burmese,  were  given  to  the  king  when  no 
one  of  his  officers  dared  mention  the  subject  to  him.     At  length 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  281 

he  directed  her  to  go  to  the  English  army,  then  marching  on 
victoriously  under  general  Archibald  Campbell,  and  prepare  the 
way  for  a  treaty  of  peace.  The  king  of  Ava  sent  Mrs.  Judson 
with  ail  the  honors  of  an  ambassador,  and  the  British  com- 
mander in  chief  received  her  in  this  character. 

The  writer  of  this  article  had  the  pleasure  of  being  introduced, 
some  years  since,  to  the  gentleman,  Captain  Kerr,  who  was  the 
officer  of  the  day,  when  she  arrived  at  the  English  camp,  and 
was  informed  by  him,  that  he  never  met  a  more  intelligent,  dig- 
nified woman,  than  Mrs.  Judson.  She  was  careful  to  have  every 
point  of  etiquette  regarded,  not,  as  she  said,  for  the  wife  of  a 
missionary,  but  as  the  representative  of  the  king  of  Ava.  She 
came  to  every  point  in  the  business  with  great  singleness  of 
heart  and  clearness  of  understanding.  She  gave  the  English 
a  better  account  of  the  court  of  the  king  of  Ava,  than  they  had 
ever  had  from  any  other  source.  The  treaty  was  made  through 
her  influence,  and  even  that  proud  monarch  did  not  hesitate  to 
acknowledge  her  merits.  After  this  peace,  Mr.  Judson  settled 
in  a  new  town  on  the  Salwen  river ;  but  she  did  not  live  long 
to  enjoy  the  blessings  of  quiet,  which  she  so  ardently  desired ; 
and  in  the  absence  of  her  husband,  she  died  there,  on  the  twen- 
ty-fourth of  October,  1826,  of  a  fever.  Her  daughter,  then  an 
infant,  survived  her  but  a  short  time.  Her  son,  her  first  child, 
had  died  at  Rangoon  and  was  buried  there.  Her  grave,  which 
is  under  a  large  tree,  called  the  hopia,  will  be  hereafter  visited 
by  Christian  missionaries,  as  a  place  made  sacred  by  the  ashes 
of  a  woman  of  no  ordinary  character.  She  was  enlightened, 
pious,  and  brave  ;  she  took  up  the  cross,  and  bore  it  admirably; 
she  had  no  childish  whinings  in  her  nature,  nor  ever  made  any 
attempts  to  excite  commiseration  at  her  hard  fate.  She  proba- 
bly lived  as  long,  and  did  as  much,  as  she  ever  expected,  and 
died  in  all  the  hopes  of  her  religion.  Such  a  woman,  ahhough 
we  may  grieve  to  think  that  she  was  called  away  so  soon,  is 
more  to  be  envied  than  pitied.  If  she  had  lived  in  legendary 
instead  of  historical  times,  she  would  have  ranked  with  Saint 
Agnes  and  Saint  Cecilia;    but  as  plain  truth  is  now  spoken 

of  the  good,  the  devoted,  and  the  martyrs,  she  will  be  remem- 

24* 


282  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

bered  for  ages,  as  one  deserving  of  high  praise  in  the  churches. 
For  beauty,  talents,  dignity  of  demeanor,  and  perseverance, 
Mrs.  Judson  has  had  but  few  equals.  She  acquired  languages 
with  great  facility,  and  used  her  acquirements  to  the  best  pur- 
poses of  her  calling.  She  wrote  with  ease  and  elegance,  was  a 
pattern  of  conjugal  affection  and  missionary  ardor.  She  was 
chivalrous  and  romantic  without  being  giddy  or  vain.  She  was 
engaged  in  a  great  work,  and  she  marched  fearlessly  on  to  the 
death.  She  shrunk  from  no  danger,  nor  turned  back  from  any 
peril.  She  saw  martyrdom  before  her,  but  it  was  surrounded 
by  beatific  visions.  She  saw  the  seeds  of  the  gospel  planted  in 
a  heathen  land,  and  she  believed,  that,  if  it  was  long  in  spring- 
ing up,  that  it  would  in  time  flourish,  and  break  asunder  the 
chains  of  superstition  and  horrid  fanaticism.  To  her  imagina- 
tion, always  chaste  and  never  unreasonable,  she  saw  the  car  of 
Juggernaut  broken  into  ten  thousand  pieces,  the  suttee  no  longer 
practised,  and  the  worship  of  idols  give  place  to  devotion  in 
temples  erected  to  the  only  living  and  true  God. 


Judith,  the  daughter  of  a  king  of  France,  was  the  wife  of 
Ethelwulph,  a  Saxon  king  of  England,  Avho  had  several  sons 
by  a  former  marriage,  among  whom  was  Alfred,  afterwards  sur- 
named  the  Great.  At  that  period,  886,  of  the  Christian  era,  the 
sons  of  the  king  could  not  read ;  yet  some  of  them,  particularly 
Alfred,  traveled  with  his  father  to  Rome,  and  was  with  him  when 
he  went  to  France  to  marry  Judith.  Alfred  was  a  sprightly  boy, 
and,  perhaps,  his  ignorance  of  letters  was  not  then  known ;  but 
his  step  mother,  a  shrewd  and  an  enlightened  woman,  on  her 
coming  to  England,  soon  discovered  the  want  of  education  in 
the  sons.  When  she  was  one  day  reading  a  poem  in  manu- 
script, and  the  boys  were  admiring  its  covering  and  gilding, 
she  offered  it  to  him  among  them  who  would  first  learn  to  read 
it.  The  elder  did  not  think  the  prize  Avorth  the  exertion  ;  but 
this  was  Alfred's  determination.  He  sought,  and  although  he 
was  only  twelve  years  old,  he  soon  mastered  the  poem,  and 
came  to  Judith  for  the  prize.  She  examined  him  and  found  him 
able  to  read  and  understand  the  whole  subject,  and  gave  him 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  283 

the  manuscript  according  to  her  promise.  From  this  hour  he  be- 
came a  laborious  student,  and  in  process  of  time,  a  very  learned 
man,  and  an  author  upon  many  subjects  which  required  great 
acuteness  of  mind  as  well  as  extensive  attainments  in  knowledge. 
As  soon  as  Alfred  ascended  the  throne,  and  was  at  peace  in  his 
dominions,  he  spared  no  pains  to  establish  institutions  of  learn- 
ing in  the  island.  From  a  taste  for  letters  in  Judith,  she  made 
Alfred  a  scholar,  and  planted  the  seeds  of  knowledge  in  Eng- 
land ;  a  nation,  which  now  claims  to  be  the  great  teacher  of 
mankind,  not  only  in  poetry,  but  in  every  branch  of  informa- 
tion that  is  known  in  the  world.  After  the  death  of  Ethel  wulph, 
she  married  his  brother,  who  had  ascended  the  throne,  but  finding 
this  was  against  the  Romish  law,  although  consistent  with  Saxon 
usage,  she  was  separated  from  him ;  and  returning  to  France, 
married  Baldwin,  named,  "  The  Arm  of  Iron,"  for  his  military 
prowess.  He  was  created,  by  her  father,  count  of  the  empire. 
With  him  she  had  great  influence,  for  he  loved  her  sincerely, 
another  proof  that  the  silken  cords  of  affection  can  bind  the  arm 
of  iron,  or  break  the  fetters  of  brass.  She  died  in  a  good  old 
age.  There  is  not  a  hint  given  by  a  mother  to  a  child,  but  has 
its  use  in  the  after  life  of  that  child,  and  the  older  he  grows,  the 
more  distinctly  will  he  remember  the  value  of  those  parents.  Ail 
other  opinions  have  incorporated- with  them  something  of  pride 
and  selfishness,  but  a  mother's  advice  to  infancy  is  free  from  all 
alloy. 


Lucia  Knox,  the  wife  of  Major-general  Henry  Knox,  of 
the  revolutionary  army,  w^as  the  daughter  of  J.  Fluker,  Esquire, 
secretary  of  the  province  of  Massachusetts  bay.  Her  father 
took  part,  as  was  natural,  with  the  mother  country,  but  before 
hostilities  had  commenced  his  daughter  had  become  engaged  to 
be  married  to  Major  Knox,  then  a  citizen  of  Boston.  Knox  was 
bred  a  book-binder  in  Boston,  and  after  closing  his  apprentice- 
ship, he,  in  connection  with  his  bindery,  opened  a  book  store,  and 
kept  a  general  assortment  of  books  and  stationary.  Major 
Adino  Paddock  had  commanded  a  company  of  artillery,  in  fact 
then  the  only  one  in  Boston,  but  fearing  the  gathering  storm,  he 


284  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

resigned  his  commission,  and  recommended  Henry  Knox  as 
commander.  He  was  accordingly  elected.  He  was  made  for 
an  officer.  Of  colossal  size  and  martial  port,  he  "  was  the  ob- 
served of  all  observers."  Among  the  rest  Miss  Fluker  saw  and 
admired  the  young  officer,  as  he  paraded  his  company  in  the 
presence  of  the  regular  troops  of  Britain.  She  soon  found  his 
book  store,  and  made  some  acquaintance  with  its  master.  She 
found  Knox  one  of  nature's  noblemen,  and  they  were  soon 
married.  She  had  engaged  to  follow  his  fortunes  if  a  war 
broke  out,  and  when  the  event  happened  she  was  as  good  as  her 
word.  Her  family  removed,  and  in  fact  left  the  country,  soon 
after  the  battle  of  Lexington,  but  Mrs.  Knox  with  her  husband 
joined  the  army  of  Washington,  at  Cambridge,  soon  after  the 
battle  of  Bunker  Hill.  He  was  now  devoted  to  the  fortunes  of 
the  war  and  Washington,  and  in  1776,  when  the  corps  of  artil- 
lery was  formed,  Knox  was,  by  the  recommendation  of  Washing- 
ton, made  a  brigadier-general.  His  wife  followed  in  the  train 
of  war  whenever  her  health  would  admit  her,  and  gave  life  to 
the  soldiers'  quarters  when  indeed  they  were  miserable  enough. 
No  American  lady  did  more  to  soften  the  hard  features  of  grim- 
visaged  war,  by  the  cheerfulness  and  amenity  of  her  manners,  than 
Mrs.  Knox.  When  the  war  was  ended  and  the  constitution  of  the 
United  States  went  into  operation,  General  Knox  was  appointed 
secretary  of  war,  an  office  which  he  had  for  some  time  held 
under  the  old  confederation.  And  Mrs.  Knox  held  a  place  next 
to  Mrs.  Washington,  and  in  fact  was  the  adviser  of  that  lady  in 
arranging  every  thing  of  ceremony.  These  females  moved  on 
admirably  together,  the  wife  of  the  president  was  retired  and 
domestic ;  Mrs.  Knox  loved  all  the  show  and  management  of 
high  life,  and  between  them  both  matters  went  on  as  they  should 
have  gone.  Foreign  courts  were  now  represented  near  the 
government  of  the  United  States,  and  men  of  taste  and  talents 
gathered  around  her,  as  leading  the  ton  in  the  newly  formed 
court,  as  some  were  pleased  to  call  it.  At  the  close  of  the  year 
1794,  General  Knox,  from  a  necessity  of  looking  after  his  own 
interests,  resigned  his  office  and  retired,  with  the  friendship  and 
confidence  of  Washington,  to  his  estates  in  Maine.     A  lurge 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  285 

tract  of  land  had  came  into  his  possession  by  his  connection 
with  Miss  Fluker,  for  what  was  owned  by  her  family  was  con- 
firmed by  government  to  her  and  her  husband  after  the  peace 
of  1783. 

At  Thomastown,  in  the  bosom  of  the  wilderness,  they  began 
a  most  princely  establishment.  A  large  house,  which  their 
French  visitors  called  a  chateau ;  and  if  it  had  been  prepar- 
ed with  a  drawbridge  and  portcullis,  the  inhabitants  of  that 
new  world,  would,  at  that  time,  have  called  it  a  castle.  The 
house  was  furnished  with  all  the  taste  of  modern  refinement, 
and  an  unbounded  hospitality  reigned  within  its  walls,  which 
was  carried  on  until  the  sudden  death  of  General  Knox,  in  1806. 
Mrs.  Knox  still  kept  up  a  genteel  establishment,  and  entertained 
her  friends  with  true  hospitality,  and  was  active  in  her  charities 
in  the  neighborhood  until  her  death,  which  happened  on  the 
twentieth  of  June,  1824,  having  lived  a  widow  nearly  eighteen 
years.  She  was  the  mother  of  ten  children,  seven  of  whom 
died  in  infancy.  In  the  school  of  such  a  man  as  General  Knox, 
and  with  so  much  tact  and  talent  as  Mrs.  Knox  possessed,  she 
could  not  fail  of  being  an  entertaining  woman.  Her  powers  of 
conversation  were  of  a  high  cast,  and  her  mind  was  stored  with 
anecdotes  of  the  most  interesting  period  of  American  history.  In 
her  person,  Mrs.  Knox  was  of  large  size,  dignified  in  her  man- 
ners, and  often  awed  when  she  failed  to  charm.  She  never  for- 
got her  military  life,  and  no  one  could  forget  that  she  had  been 
with  those  accustomed  to  command.  Such  a  woman,  probably, 
had  more  influence  on  the  manners  of  her  age,  than  a  dozen 
generals  could  have  had,  however  intelligent  they  might  have 
been,  although  no  record  of  it  remains. 


Maria  Anna  Angelica  Catherine  Kauffman,  an  emi- 
nent artist,  was  born  in  the  year  1741,  at  Coile,  in  the  Grisons, 
was  instructed  by  her  father,  and  was  no  mean  portrait  painter 
at  eleven  years  of  age.  In  1766,  she  went  to  England,  and 
resided  there  seventeen  years.  During  this  time,  she  was  inti- 
mate with  the  first  men  of  the  age,  such  as  Dr.  Johnson,  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  Fuselli,  and  others  of  taste  and  talent.     Her 


286  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Style  of  painting  was  delicate  and  effeminate,  and  all  the  criti- 
cisms of  her  friends  could  not  induce  her  to  give  boldness  to  hei 
pencil.  There  was  a  sameness  in  her  pictures  from  this  cause, 
that  made  them  less  popular,  than  those  of  less  taste  and  manly 
freedom.  There  was  a  vestal  air  in  all  her  productions,  that 
seemed  to  say,  "  I  will  not  indulge  my  fancy,  nor  grow  warm 
over  my  subject."  Angelica  particularly  excelled  in  poetical 
subjects ;  her  drawing  was  good,  and  her  coloring  attractive ; 
but  her  poetry  was  arcadian  rather  than  epic.  She  lived  a  long 
time  in  single  blessedness.  She  married  Zecchi,  a  Venetian 
painter,  when  she  was  forty  years  of  age.  She  died  at  Rome, 
in  the  year  1807.  She  was  quite  as  distinguished  for  her 
talents  for  music,  as  for  her  painting,  but  preferred  to  pursue  the 
former.  At  one  time,  she  was  inclined  to  profess  music  instead 
of  painting,  but  it  is  well  she  did  not,  for  a  hundred  musicians 
are  found  among  females  to  one  great  painter.  One  is  scientific, 
and  can  be  in  a  great  measure  acquired,  without  extraordinary 
genius,  while  the  other  requires  a  felicity  of  touch,  that  may  be 
improved  but  never  created. 


Khaula,  an  Arabian  heroine.  Among  this  warlike  and  un- 
settled nation,  when  the  flower  of  any  tribe  went  upon  a  distant 
enterprise,  some  hostile  neighbor  would  often  attack  those  who 
were  left  behind ;  and  thence  arose,  perhaps,  the  custom  of  the 
Arabian  women,  even  of  the  highest  rank,  attending  their  hus- 
bands, fathers,  and  brothers,  in  their  military  expeditions,  and 
fighting  often  with  a  degree  of  heroism,  not  inferior  to  the  fabled 
achievements  of  the  ancient  Amazons.  We  have  many  instances 
of  the  day  being  restored  by  them,  after  the  men  had  fled,  but 
none  more  remarkable  than  the  famous  battle  of  Yermouks, 
which  proved  decisive  of  the  fate  of  Syria,  and  of  the  Greek 
empire  of  the  east. 

The  Grecians  greatly  otitnumbered  the  Arabians,  and  their 
onset  was  so  impetuous,  that  they  drove  them  to  their  tents.  The 
chief  women  then  took  command,  and  made  head  till  night 
parted  the  combatants.  The  next  day,  they  led  them  again  to 
the  attack  ;  Khaula,  sister  to  one  of  the  principal  commanders, 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  287 

acting-  as  general.  In  leading  the  van,  she  was  beaten  to  the 
ground  by  a  Greek,  when  Wafiera,  one  of  her  female  friends, 
striking  off  his  head  at  a  blow,  brought  the  heroine  off  Ani- 
mated by  the  noble  behavior  of  the  women,  the  Arabs  soon  be- 
came irresistible,  and  routed  the  Grecian  army,  whose  loss,  it  is 
said,  amounted  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  killed,  and 
fifty  thousand  prisoners.  Khaula  was  afterwards  espoused  by 
the  Caliph  Ali. 

Laura,  the  wife  of  Heugeus  de  Sade,  was  a  native  of  Avignon, 
in  France.  She  was  born  in  the  year  1303,  according  to  the 
calculations  of  the  biographers  of  Petrarch,  with  whom  her 
name  is  connected ;  and  without  his,  probably,  we  should  know 
nothing  more  of  her  than  of  a  thousand  respectable  dames  of 
that  age,  although  her  family  was  highly  respectable.  It  so 
fell  out,  that  when  she  was  twenty-four  years  of  age,  and  the 
mother  of  two  or  three  children,  that  Petrarch  saw  her  going  to 
church  at  midnight,  perhaps  on  some  gala  day,  when  all  was 
parade  and  show ;  and  he  felt  an  instant  and  endurable  passion 
for  her,  which  is  embalmed  in  poetry  and  prose.  Petrarch  was 
then  a  youth  of  three  and  twenty,  a  scholar,  a  man  of  rank,  and 
a  poet.  It  is  not  improbable  that  the  fame  of  Petrarch  as  a 
writer,  had  reached  her  ears.  The  family  of  Petrarch  were 
from  Florence,  and  had  several  years  previous  taken  up  their 
residence  at  Avignon, 

Petrarch  first  saw  his  mistress  on  the  sixth  day  of  April,  1327 ; 
and  on  the  same  day  of  the  same  month,  1348,  she  died.  Their 
romantic  passion,  or  rather  his  romantic  passion,  for  there  is  but 
little  proof  that  she  ever  very  ardently  reciprocated  his  flame, 
continued  twenty-one  years,  while  she  was  living.  What  an 
age  of  love !  The  fuel  which  fed  such  a  fire,  must  have  been 
the  asbestos  of  the  soul,  perfectly  incombustible ;  or  rather  a  sub- 
stance made  more  pure,  bright,  and  immortal,  by  passing  through 
the  furnace.  This  was  love  at  first  sight.  It  was  shortly  after 
he  saw  her  going  to  church  that  the  original  of  these  lines 
were  written.  The  translation  is  from  the  all  accomplished  Sir 
William  Jones : 


288  FEMAJ^E  BIOGRAPHY. 

*' O !  well-remember'd  day, 

When  on  yon  bank  she  lay, 
Meek  in  her  pride,  and  in  her  rigor  mild ; 

The  young  and  blooming  flowers, 

Falling  in  fragrant  showers, 
Shone  on  her  neck,  and  on  her  bosom  smil'd; 

Some  on  her  mantle  hung. 

Some  in  her  locks  were  strung. 
Like  orient  gems  in  rings  of  flaming  gold  ; 

Some,  in  a  spicy  cloud 

Descending,  call'd  aloud, 
'  Here  Love  and  Youth  the  reins  of  empire  hold.' 

I  view'd  the  heavenly  maid. 

And,  wrapt  in  wonder,  said, 
'  The  groves  of  Eden  gave  this  angel  birth  ;' 

Her  look,  her  voice,  her  smile. 

That  might  all  heaven  beguile. 
Wafted  my  soul  above  the  realms  of  earth ; 

The  star-bespangled  skies 

Were  open'd  to  my  eyes ; 
Sighing  I  said,  '  Whence  rose  this  glittering  scene?' 

Since  that  auspicious  hour. 

This  bank  and  odorous  bower. 
My  morning  couch,  and  evening  haunt,  have  been. 

Well  mayst  thou  blush,  my  song. 

To  leave  the  rural  throng. 
And  fly  thus  artless  to  my  Laura's  ear ; 

But,  were  thy  poet's  fire 

Ardent  as  his  desire, 
Thou  wert  a  song  that  heaven  might  stoop  to  hear." 

Through  every  day  of  his  life,  after  this  time,  she  was  his 
muse,  and  constantly  inspired  his  lays.  He  did  not  feel  the 
passion  as  in  the  least  degree  criminal ;  and,  considering  the 
customs  of  society  in  that  age,  it  was  not  so.  He  made  no 
struggle  to  subdue  his  feelings.  Over  her  bier  the  lover 
breathed  his  grief,  in  strains  which  have  come  down  to  us,  and 
which  are  now  as  fresh  as  if  they  came  from  the  heart  this  hour, 
for  they  are  true  to  nature.  Many  poets  have  attempted  to  in- 
fuse into  a  translation  a  portion  of  the  pure  spirit  which  is  found 
in  the  original  of  Petrarch,  but  few  of  them  have,  in  any  tolerable 
degree,  succeeded.  There  is  something  so  kindred  to  love  in 
the  soft  tones  of  the  Italian  muse,  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to 
impart  it  to  another  language.  It  was  reserved  for  Sir  William 
Jones,  at  once  to  do  justice  to  Petrarch,  and  at  the  same  time, 


FEMALfi  BIOGRAPHY.  289 

to  prove  our  own  language  to  be  as  susceptible  of  poetical  beau- 
ties as  any  other.  The  amatory  poets,  as  a  class,  from  Anacreon 
himself  to  Anacreon  Moore,  have  been  of  but  little  service  to 
mankind.  If  they  assisted  to  refine  the  world  in  the  first  in- 
stance, they  have  since  done  quite  as  much  to  mislead  it.  The 
passions  are  often  inflamed  by  the  amatory  poet,  without  his 
imparting  one  lesson  to  guide  the  heart  or  direct  the  imagination. 
The  love  sonnets  of  Petrarch  are,  however,  an  exception  to 
these  remarks,  as  some  others  may  be.  Not  that  we  would  chill 
the  sweet  influences  of  love ;  our  wish  would  be  only  to  regu- 
late and  restrain  them.  To  destroy  the  passion  would  be  to 
immolate  the  imagination,  and  to  degrade  the  character  of  man. 
Fancy  could  not  exist  without  love,  any  more  than  the  earth 
could  produce  flowers  and  fruits,  without  the  elemental  fires 
which  pervade  all  animated  nature. 

This  passion  is  often  more  rich  in  thought,  tender  in  feeling, 
and  profitable  to  mankind,  in  its  griefs  than  in  its  joys.  The  mind, 
penetrated  with  the  loss  of  a  beloved  object,  seeks  relief  in  visions 
of  futurity ;  and  in  every  flight  to  the  skies,  brings  to  earth  some 
divine  consolation  to  assuage  the  pangs  of  a  wounded  spirit,  and 
to  bind  up  the  broken  heart.  The  elegiac  muse  is  known  to 
every  language,  in  every  age,  when  there  have  been  hearts  to 
beat  or  beauties  to  die.  She  has  mingled  her  notes  with  those 
of  all  the  sisters.  In  the  pathway  of  the  bridal  train  the  hearse 
is  met;  in  the  pictures  of  life  are  the  emblems  of  death;  and 
the  Assyrian  maids  placed  the  tomb  of  their  lost  Adonis  in  the 
groves  and  gardens  of  love. 

Their  loves,  however  unmanly  in  the  hopeless  lover,  perhaps 
did  no  harm.  If  this  romantic  afl^ection  had  not  been  cherished 
by  Petrarch,  we  should  never  have  had  any  of  his  delightful 
poems.  He  would  have  figured,  no  doubt,  among  the  thousand 
gallants  and  fashionables  of  that  day,  in  the  corrupt  courts,  to 
which  he  had  access,  and  where  he  w^as  a  great  favorite,  and 
then  have  passed  away,  like  other  insects,  that  flutter  about  and 
display  their  wings  for  a  summer  hour.  From  every  life  a 
lesson  may  be  learned,  and  even  the  dreams  of  the  lover  may 
afford  subjects  for  the  deep  contemplation  of  the  philosopher. 

25 


290  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Margaret  Lambrun,  a  Scotch  woman,  in  the  service  of 
Mary,  queen  of  Scots,  as  was  also  her  husband,  who  dying  for 
grief  for  the  sad  catastrophe  of  that  unfortunate  princess,  his 
wife  took  the  resohition  of  revenging  the  death  both,  of  one  and 
the  other,  upon  Queen  Elizabeth.  With  this  view,  she  put  on 
man's  apparel,  and  assuming  the  name  of  Anthony  Sparke,  went 
to  court,  carrying  always  about  her  a  pair  of  pistols,  one  to  kill 
the  queen,  and  the  other  herself,  in  order  to  escape  justice.  One 
day,  as  she  was  pushing  through  the  crowd,  to  come  up  to  her 
majesty,  who  was  walking  in  her  garden,  she  chanced  to  drop 
one  of  her  pistols,  which,  being  seen  by  the  guard,  she  was 
seized,  in  order  to  be  sent  to  prison ;  but  the  queen,  not  suspect- 
ing her  to  be  one  of  her  own  sex,  had  a  mind  to  examine  her 
first.  She  was  accordingly  ordered  into  the  presence  of  the 
queen,  who  demanded  her  name,  country,  and  quality.  Mar- 
garet, with  undaunted  firmness,  replied,  "  Madam,  though  I 
appear  in  this  habit,  I  am  a  woman ;  my  name  is  Margaret 
Lambrun.  I  was  several  years  in  the  service  of  Q,ueen  Mary, 
whom  you  have  so  unjustly  put  to  death  ;  you  have  also  caused 
that  of  my  husband.  Now,  as  I  had  ihe  greatest  love  and  affec- 
tion for  both,  I  resolved,  at  the  peril  of  my  life,  to  revenge  their 
deaths,  by  killing  you,  who  were  the  cause  of  both.  I  confess, 
that  I  have  suffered  many  struggles  within  my  breast,  and  have 
made  all  possible  efforts  to  divert  my  resolution  from  this  design, 
but  all  in  vain,  I  found  myself  necessitated  to  prove  the  truth 
of  that  maxim,  that  neither  reason  nor  force,  can  hinder  a  wo- 
man from  vengeance,  when  she  is  impelled  thereto  by  love." 
The  queen  heard  this  discourse  and  said,  "  You  are  then  per- 
suaded that  in  this  action,  you  have  done  your  duty,  and  satisfied 
the  demands  which  your  love  for  your  mistress  and  spouse  indis- 
pensably required  of  you,  what  think  you  now  my  duty  is  to- 
ward you?"  The  woman  replied  with  the  same  intrepidity,  "  I 
will  tell  your  majesty  my  opinion,  provided  you  will  please  to 
let  me  know  whether  you  put  this  into  the  quality  of  a  queen  or 
that  of  a  judge  ?"  To  which  her  majesty  answered,  "  In  that  of 
a  queen,"  "  Then,"  returned  she,  "  You  ought  to  grant  me 
a  pardon."     "  But  what  assurance  or  security  can  you  give  me, 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  291 

that  you  will  not  make  the  like  attempt  on  some  other  occa- 
sion?" Margaret  replied,  *•  Madam,  a  favor  which  is  given  un- 
der such  restraints,  is  no  more  a  favor ;  and  in  so  doing,  your 
majesty  would  act  against  me  as  a  judge."  The  queen,  turning 
to  some  of  her  council,  said,  "  I  have  heen  thirty  years  a  queen, 
but  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  had  such  a  lecture  read  to  me 
before;"  and  immediately  granted  a  full  pardon,  against  the 
opinion  of  her  council,  and  at  her  request,  a  safe  conduct  out  of 
the  kingdom. 


Louisa  Labbe,  La  Belle  Cordiere,  born  at  Lyons,  1527,  is 
celebrated  for  her  beauty,  her  talents,  and  her  heroism.  She 
discovered  an  early  predilection  for  letters  and  the  arts ;  her 
taste  for  martial  exercises  is  a  still  more  singular  trait  in  her 
character.  At  sixteen  years  of  age  she  left  her  studies,  to  follow 
either  a  father  or  a  lover  to  the  seige  of  Perpignan,  where  she 
gave  proofs  of  her  courage  and  military  skill.  Soon  after  this 
expedition,  she  married  Ennemond  Perrin,  a  merchant  possessed 
of  considerable  property,  who  traded  principally  in  cordage,  and 
who  resided  on  his  estate,  near  Lyons,  in  a  house  elegantly  fur- 
nished, to  which  belonged  spacious  and  elegant  gardens  ;  these 
gardens  joined  a  place  called  La  Belle  Cour,  near  which  a  street 
was  afterwards  built,  named  La  Belle  Cordiere,  in  honor  of 
Louisa.  Her  house,  in  which  she  formed  a  large  library  of  the 
best  authors,  became  the  resort  of  men  of  letters,  and  persons  of 
distinction,  who  resided  in  or  near  Lyons.  In  these  societies, 
over  which  Louisa  presided  as  the  inspiring  muse,  every  thing 
was  collected  which  could  gratify  the  understanding,  delight  the 
imagination,  or  captivate  the  senses.  The  charms,  the  talents,  the 
assemblies  of  La  Belle  Cordiere,  excited  jealousy,  and  provoked 
scandal  among  the  ladies  of  Lyons ;  the  writings  of  Louisa, 
which  breathed  liberality,  or,  which  satirized  the  frivolity  and 
envy  of  her  adversaries,  afforded  a  new  provocation  to  their 
vengeance.  Women  of  virtue  often  risk  much  by  unguarded 
manners.  The  envious  are  eager  to  seize  the  most  innocent 
freedoms  of  those  who  are  their  superiors  in  beauty,  talents, 
acquirements,  or  good  fortune. 


21&2  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

LucRETiA,  a  celebrated  Roman  lady,  daughter  of  Lucretius, 
and  wife  of  Tarquinius  Collatinus.  Her  accomplishments  proved 
fatal  to  her,  and  the  praises  which  a  number  of  young  nobles 
at  Ardea,  among  w^hom  were  Collatinus  and  the  sons  of  Tarquin, 
bestowed  upon  the  domestic  virtues  of  their  wives  at  home,  was 
productive  of  a  revolution  in  the  state.  While  every  one  was 
warm  with  the  idea,  it  was  universally  agreed  to  leave  the  camp 
and  to  go  to  Rome,  to  ascertain  the  veracity  of  their  respective 
assertions.  Collatinus  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  his  expecta- 
tions fulfilled  in  the  highest  degree,  and,  while  the  wives  of  the 
other  Romans  were  involved  in  the  riot  and  dissipation  of  a  feast, 
Lucretia  was  found  at  home,  employed  in  the  midst  of  her  female 
servants,  and  easing  their  labor  by  sharing  it  herself  The 
beauty  and  innocence  of  Lucretia  inflamed  the  passion  of  Sextus, 
the  son  of  Tarquin,  who  was  a  witness  of  her  virtues  and  indus- 
try. He  cherished  this  flame,  and  secretly  retired  from  the 
camp  and  came  to  the  house  of  Lucretia,  where  he  met  with  a 
kind  reception.  He  showed  himself  unworthy  of  such  treat- 
ment, and,  in  the  dead  of  night,  he  introduced  himself  to  Lu- 
cretia, who  refused  to  his  entreaties  what  her  fear  of  shame 
granted  to  his  threats.  She  yielded  to  her  ravisher,  when  he 
threatened  to  murder  her,  and  to  slay  one  of  her  slaves  and  put 
him  in  her  bed,  that  this  apparent  adultery  might  seem  to  have 
met  with  the  punishment  it  deserved.  Lucretia,  in  the  morning, 
sent  for  her  husband  and  her  father,  and,  after  she  had  revealed 
to  them  the  indignities  she  had  suffered  from  the  son  of  Tarquin, 
and  entreated  them  to  avenge  her  wrongs,  she  stabbed  herself 
with  a  dagger,  which  she  had  previously  concealed  under  her 
clothes.  This  fatal  blow  was  the  sign  of  rebellion.  The  body 
of  the  virtuous  Lucretia  was  exposed  to  the  eyes  of  the  senate, 
and  the  violence  and  barbarity  of  Sextus,  joined  with  the  un- 
popularity and  oppression  of  his  father,  so  irritated  the  Roman 
populace,  that  that  moment  they  expelled  the  Tarquins  for  ever 
from  Rome.  Brutus,  who  was  present  at  the  tragical  death  of 
Lucretia,  kindled  the  flames  of  rebellion,  and  the  republican  or 
consular  government  was  established  at  Rome,  A.  U.  C.  244. 

For  more  than  twenty -three  hundred  years,  Lucretia  has  been 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  293 

another  name  for  chastity ;  yet  singular  as  it  may  seem,  a  mo- 
dern writer  of  great  distinction,  from  the  very  turpitude  of  politi- 
cal prejudice,  has  made  the  vain  attempt  to  bring  the  character 
of  Lucretia  down  to  an  equivocal  standard,  in  a  work  of  classi- 
cal fiction.  Count  Verri,  solely  from  his  hatred  to  republics, 
and  not  from  his  love  of  truth,  has  made  the  great  Atticus  Pom- 
ponius,  among  the  shades  of  departed  greatness,  at  the  tomb  of 
the  Scipios,  put  many  cruel  questions  to  that  great  mother  of 
republican  governments,  and  by  her  evasions  and  silence,  en- 
deavors to  impress  the  belief  on  the  mind  of  the  reader,  that  she 
was  convict  by  confession,  of  boasting  of  a  fame  that  she  did 
not  deserve.  It  is  painful  to  think,  that  a  scholar  and  a  gentle- 
man should,  from  a  hatred  to  any  form  of  government,  go  to 
fiction,  to  raise  a  calumny  that  never  was  uttered  by  a  Tarquin, 
even  in  their  rage  for  the  loss  of  power.  Tarquinius  Superbus 
lived  fourteen  years  after  his  expulsion  from  Rome ;  and  he  and 
his  family  were  constantly  struggling  to  gain  their  kingdom ; 
and  yet  no  historian  has  ever  stated  that  even  that  family  ever 
dared  to  fix  a  stain  on  the  ermine  of  Lucretia's  virtue. 

Such  slanders,  created  from  the  ashes  of  the  dead,  by  political 
malignity,  and  shadowed  out  in  the  richest  robes  of  classical 
taste,  are  enough  to  make  every  reader  of  history  another  Lucius 
Junius  Brutus,  and  to  extort  from  his  indignant  soul  an  oath  to 
pursue  with  the  fire  and  sword  of  criticism,  the  calumniators  of 
female  innocence.  But  there  is  no  great  danger  of  the  prevalence 
of  such  vile  errors,  in  this  day  of  deep  enquiry  into  the  history 
of  past  ages.  While  the  eloquent  Italian,  with  more  than  Tar- 
quinian  brutality,  was  attempting  to  sully  the  fame  of  Lucretia, 
the  German  historians  have  wiped  away  all  the  foul  asper- 
sions that  had  been  lavished  on  the  sweetest  poetess  that  ever 
sang,  the  divine  Sappho.  She  never  fell  in  love  with  Phaon, 
never  took  the  leap  of  Lucate,  and  never  offended  the  goddess 
of  the  silver  bow.  It  is  now  proved,  that  she  has  been  mistaken 
for  another  Sappho,  who  lived  three  hundred  years  after  her  time. 
Whoever  wishes  to  see  a  full  account  of  this  happy  historical 
elucidation,  must  turn  to  that  excellent  work,  "  Anthon's  Lem- 
priere,"   "article  Sappho."     The  following  extract  is  here  pre- 

25* 


294  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

sented  as  a  curiosity  in  modem  literature ;  for  in  this  day  of 
general  reading,  and  philosophical,  honest  enquiry,  every  one 
should  have  an  opportunity  to  form  an  opinion  of  his  own.  Pa- 
triots have  suffered,  and  traitors  have  been  crowned ;  but  time 
has  assisted  history  to  set  many  things  right.  This  could  never 
have  been  effected,  as  far  as  it  has  been,  unless  the  doors  of  free 
enquiry  had  been  opened  wide,  and  all  invited  to  enter.  The 
following  extract  is  from  Miss  Canfield's  translation  of  the  "  Ro 
man  Nights." 

As  a  sudden  blast  lashes  the  quiet  surface  of  the  deep  into 
fury,  so  the  spectres,  hitherto  placid  listeners,  Avere  driven  into 
turbulence  and  commotion,  by  these  taunts  of  Pomponius,  and 
murmured  like  the  coming  tempest.     Then,  there  appeared  a 
feminine  shade,  clothed  in  a  long  white  veil,  and  running  to  and 
fro,  striving  to   excite   compassion   or   redress,  by   imploring 
screams  and  gestures  of  grief     Anon  she  disappeared  among 
the  phantoms,  and  again  was  seen  flitting  forth  as  the  moon 
shines  from  a  cloudy  sky.     The  crowd  at  length,  in  the  pertur- 
bation into  which  she  had  throw^n  them,  moved  from  her,  and 
she  remained  alone  in  the  midst.     Through  her  drapery  that 
fell  to  her  feet,  her  delicate  limbs  shone  like  flowers  through 
the  mists  of  the  morning.     But  suddenly  in  a  new  transport 
of  grief  and  despair,  she  rent  her  veil,  thus  disclosmg  the  ex- 
quisite whiteness  of  her  well  turned  shoulders  and  throbbing 
bosom.     She  then  bashfully  strove  to  assemble  the  torn  rem- 
nants around  her,  but  her  face  was  still  left  exposed.     She  cast 
down  her  eyes,  while  tear  after  tear  stole  from  their  lids ;  an 
expression  of  deep  anguish  contracted  her  beauteous  brow,  from 
which  thickly  flowing  golden  tresses  fell  over  her  milk-white 
arms.     How  lively  is  the  impression  made  on  the  heart  by 
weeping  beauty !     As  I  gazed  on  her,  I  felt  the  thrill  of  tender 
pity  stealing  from  vein  to  vein,  when  I  heard  the  ghosts  w^his- 
per  the  name  of  Lucretia !     .     .     .     Pomponius,  unmoved  by 
the  disturbance  of  the   multitude  or  the  renown  of  the  noble 
Roman  lady,  approached  her,  and   with  firmness  thus  addressed 
her  :  "  thou  celebrated  consort  of  CoUatinus !  be  not  offended 
at  the  freedom  of  my  conjectures,  since  they  sprang  not   from 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  295 

scorn  of  thee,  but  from  my  most  ardent  love  of  truth.  Now, 
thou  thyself  canst  unfold  it,  after  our  long*  uncertainties  and 
ages  of  unsettled  opinion."  At  this  Lucretia,  raising  her  dis- 
consolate brow,  cast  a  mournful  glance  on  her  interrogator. 
She  sobbed,  and  her  bosom  palpitated  more  tumultuously ;  but 
it  seemed  that  the  violence  of  her  sorrow  had  choked  her  utter- 
ance. A  deep  silence  reigned  around  her,  and  the  crowd,  in 
mute  expectation,  were  awaiting  her  word,  slike  listeners  around 
a  melodious  musician,  who  pauses  ere  he  commence  his  song. 
But  Lucretia  continued  in  the  same  wild  trouble,  apparently 
unable  to  speak  for  grief,  or  as  though,  in  the  throng  of  thoughts 
which  rushed  to  her  mind,  she  knew  not  whether  to  explain  or 
to  remain  silent.  At  length  her  head  meekly  sunk  upon  her 
breast,  and,  as  if  unable  any  longer  to  support  her  affliction,  she 
sank  upon  a  tomb.  We  then  might  hope  no  more  to  hear  her 
deign  to  explain ;  and  Cicero  broke  the  silence  of  disappoint- 
ment by  thus  addressing  Pomponius :  "  I  know  not,  my  Atticus, 
why  it  is  thy  pleasure  thus  to  wound  the  feelings  of  a  Roman 
matron  with  thy  severe  remarks ;  thou  who,  with  us,  wast  wont 
to  breathe  only  peace  and  kindness  ?  The  shades  of  night 
were,  it  is  true,  the  only  witnesses  of  the  outrage  she  suffered ; 
but  the  heroic  manner  in  which  her  virtuous  spirit  abandoned 
her  injured  body,  disdaining  to  inhabit  the  profane  abode,  unan- 
swerably demonstrates  her  innocence.  See,  Pomponius  !  See  the 
large  wound  on  her  breast,  that  chaste  fountain  of  her  children's 
nurture?  That  the  ruthless  steel  should  have  thus  pierced  it, 
IS  not  even  that  sufficient  to  silence  invidious  calumny  ?" 

Atticus  replied :  "  rash  as  is  the  undertaking  to  enter  the  lists 
of  argument  with  thee,  whom  we  justly  deemed  the  father  of 
Roman  oratory,  yet  I  may  tell  thee,  Tully,  that  here  all  alike 
can  judge  of  human  events  without  the  errors  of  human  judg- 
ments. And  as  thou  hast  been  known  to  employ  the  illusions 
of  thy  art  to  defend  the  guilty  as  well  as  the  innocent,  I  may 
add  that  thou  now  affirmest  decisively  in  a  doubtful  case.  I 
therefore  frankly  confess  my  opinion,  that  the  recital  of  Lucre- 
tia is  full  of  improbabilities."  This  assertion  appeared  to  dis- 
please Mark  Brutus,  a  descendant  of  that  Junius  who  withdrew 


296  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

the  dagger  from  the  breast  of  Lucretia,  and  instigated  to  the 
high  and  memorable  vengeance  that  followed.    But  Pomponius 
continued :    "  at  least,  if  this  fair  dame,  as  she  declares,  was 
menaced  with  death  by  her  cruel  lover,  it  was  not  in  a  desert  Or 
solitary  place,  in  which  she  might  have  invoked  aid  in  vain, 
but  in  her  husband's  dwelling,  that  was  full  of  kindred  and 
slaves,  and,  according  to  the  simplicity  and  frugality  of  those 
times,  very  small  in  dimensions.     But  to  insure  her  silence, 
Sextus,  she  says,  atrociously  threatened  to  place  beside  her  a 
murdered  slave,  as  an  ignominious  proof  of  crime.     But  it  was 
as  impossible  to  execute  such  a  project  as  it  would  have  been 
easy  to  prevent  it  by  a  single  cry.     I  grieve,  for  the  sake  of  Lu- 
cretia's  glory,  that  she  could  discover  no  surer  method  of  escap- 
ing infamy  than  by  submitting  to  the  desires  of  her  lover.     How 
singular  a  docility  in  this  chastest  of  women,   that  she  should 
forget  that  instinct  of  resistance  which  hatred  or  terror  teach, 
and  even  suppress  every  accent  of  entreaty  or  alarm !     Still 
more  strange,  that  she,  who  could  resolve  afterwards  to  wash  out 
with  her  blood  the  stain  her  honor  had  received,  should  not  have 
resolved  to  perish  rather  than  submit.  And  the  royal  youth  was 
neither  ungainly  nor  brutal,  but  handsome  and  brave.     He  was 
courteously  welcomed  by  thee,   Lucretia,  and  he  supped  with 
thee,  gaily  and  gladsomely;  after  which  he  was  led  by  thy  ser- 
vants to  the  hospitable  chamber  destined  for  guests.     Oh  thy 
ingenuous  simplicity,  to  have  been  unable  to  read  in  his  eyes 
his  dangerous  passion ;  and  to  have  neither  secured  thy  door 
nor  kept  near  thee  some  familiar  servant,  so  that  the  vile  seducer, 
as  if  he  had  been  a  welcome  lover,  entered  without  obstacle  the 
sanctuary  of  thy  frail  virtue  !"    Brutus  interrupted  Pomponius, 
exclaiming,  *'  why  then  did  she  reveal  the  infamy  that  she  might 
have   concealed  with  impunity  !     What  madness,  to  provoke 
against  her  lover  a  vengeance  that  must  be  fatal  to  him !     Yet 
she  was  his  accuser  and  her  own  betrayer;  she  alone  published 
his  crime  and  insisted  on  his  punishment.  Had  she  been  weakly 
seduced  from  her  conjugal  faith,  by  an  unholy  passion,  would 
she  have  been  so  frantic  as  to  criminate  and  destroy  both  herself 
and   the   cherished   object  ?"      Pomponius   calmly  answered 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  297 

"  those  who  lived  in  that  age,  Brutus,  know  that  Sextus  was  a 
presumptuous  youth,  who,  instead  of  concealing,  boasted  of  his 
successful  amours.  And  history  tells  us  too,  that  when  he  direct- 
ed his  arts  and  attention  to  Lucretia,  it  was  for  the  pleasure  of 
rendering  Collatinus  ridiculous,  who  had  boasted  of  her  supe- 
rior charms  and  invincible  purity.  And  the  youth,  vain  of  his 
triumph,  was  full  of  the  malicious  desire  of  publicly  sneering  at 
the  too  credulous  husband.  Lucretia  knew  the  character  of 
her  lover ;  and  when  the  intoxication  of  a  guilty  passion  had 
given  place  to  reflection,  she  saw  herself  on  the  brink  of  a  pre- 
cipice, and  the  tardy  remonstrances  of  honor  impelled  her  to 
die  like  a  self-immolated  victim,  too  proud  to  exist  under  degra- 
dation, rather  than  to  live  burthened  with  inevitable  infamy." 

Then  Brutus  returned  to  Lucretia,  and  thus  exclaimed :  "  Oh 
thou !  who  in  life  didst  unfold  in  such  words  of  sorrow  thy 
secret  wrongs,  why  art  thou  silent  now?  why  dost  thou  not 
speak,  and  confound  thy  detractors  ?"  But  ah !  at  this  address, 
tears  began  to  trickle  from  the  eyes  of  Lucretia;  she  wiped 
them  with  her  veil,  with  which  she  strove  to  cover  her  face, 
suffused  with  betraying  blushes.  In  her  distress,  she  seated  her- 
self on  the  ground,  and  hiding  her  face  with  both  hands,  her 
head  sunk  upon  her  knees,  in  an  attitude  of  contrition  and  perfect 
wretchedness.  At  this  spectacle,  the  shades  looked  at  each  other 
in  silent  amaze ;  and  Brutus,  with  much  emotion,  then  resumed : 
"  unfortunate  that  thou  art,  if  thou  wast  innocent,  to  be  thus 
unable  to  repel  the  charges  that  darken  thy  fame !"  The  sad 
Lucretia,  rising,  seemed  to  indicate,  by  her  gestures,  that  she 
was  condemned  to  silence  by  some  heavenly  command.  Brutus 
then,  wishing  to  console  her,  thus  continued  :  "  if,  indeed,  thou 
wast  weak  in  that  night  of  mystery,  thou  wast  magnanimous 
the  following  day,  and  mayst  boast  of  having  founded  our  free- 
dom, by  the  example  of  thy  firmness."  While  Brutus  continued, 
in  heart- stirring  language,  to  relate  the  expulsion  of  the  kings, 
the  triumphs  of  the  people,  and  the  several  famous  events  of  the 
republic,  I  saw  the  cloud  of  grief  leave  the  brow  of  Lucretia, 
and  a  joy  kindle  in  her  smile,  as  the  sky  becomes  serene  and 
sunny  by  the  breath  of  the  zephyr.     Like  a  light  mist,  she 


298  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

gradually  vanished  from  our  eyes,  leaving  the  spirits  still  in  the 
same  suspense  concerning  her  doubtful  chastity.  The  crowd 
however,  discoursed  variously  on  this  adventure,  covered  forever 
with  the  gloom  of  the  oblivious  past,  and  the  impenetrable  secrecy 
of  love.  But  now  the  stars  were  growing  pale,  and  the  dull 
obscurity  of  night  was  receding  before  the  rising  dawn.  Buried 
as  I  was  in  that  dark  cavern,  I  should  not  have  known  this 
change  of  the  heavens;  but  as  the  mariner,  while  below,  learns 
the  course  he  is  steering,  from  the  turning  of  the  faithful  needle, 
so,  by  the  wavering  and  fluctuation  of  the  shades,  their  half- 
dying  voices,  and  their  gradual  disappearance,  I  was  sure  that 
the  light  of  day,  forbidden  to  them,  was  prevailing  on  the  earth. 
I  felt  my  way  out  of  the  gloomy  sepulchre,  only  certain  of  my 
existence,  when  I  once  more  breathed  the  dewy  breath  of  the 
morning,  and  was  saluted  by  the  warbling  of  the  early  songsters. 
These,  gladdened  by  the  return  of  day,  with  the  dulcet  rounde- 
lays they  carolled,  infused  a  voluptuous  delight  into  the  bosom, 
expanding  the  heart,  and  chasing  the  sense  of  care  far  from  the 
fascinated  mind. 


Janet  Mc  Crea,  the  fate  of  this  young  woman  has  excited 
the  sympathies  of  her  friends,  and  the  whole  people  of  the  United 
States.  She  was  the  daughter  of  James  Mc  Crea,  a  clergyman 
of  New  Jersey,  who  died  before  the  revolution.  After  her  father's 
death  Janet  resided  with  her  brother  at  Albany,  who  removed 
to  the  neighborhood  of  Fort  Edward.  There  are  several 
versions  of  this  story  of  blood  ;  but  the  following  is  dravim  from 
an  examination  of  all  of  them.  August,  1777,  is  stated  to  be  the 
time  of  her  death. 

She  was  a  young  lady  of  twenty-three  years  of  age,  amiable 
and  well  educated.  She  was  related  to  one  of  the  American 
officers  who  was  at  Fort  Edward,  but  on  the  alarm,  given  by  the 
retreat  of  the  American  army  from  the  lakes,  she  had  left  her 
home  for  a  safe  retreat  in  Fort  Miller ;  but  when  the  American 
forces  thought  it  prudent  to  retire  from  that  fortress  to  Vermont, 
she  did  not  think  proper  to  go  with  them,  and  returned  to  Sandy 
Hill,  the  place  of  her  usual  residence.     Rumor  after  rumor 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  299 

soon  reached  her  here  of  the  approach  of  the  Indians,  and  she 
knew  not  whither  to  fly.  The  whole  country  from  the  lakes  was 
in  great  consternation,  and  she  set  out  for  Fort  Edward,  with 
some  other  females.  Her  fears  were  increased,  for  she  felt  no 
confidence  in  either  side.  She  was  on  American  ground,  but 
was  betrothed  to  an  American,  who  had  taken  sides  with  the 
British,  and  had  gone  to  Canada,  where  he  was  made  captain  of 
a  company.  The  lovers  had  managed  to  keep  up  a  correspond- 
ence, and  he  was  informed,  when  he  reached  Fort  Anne,  that 
his  inamorata  was  concealed  in  a  house  a  few  miles  from  Sandy 
Hill.  To  go  there  himself  would  be  dangerous  to  both,  as  the 
woods  were  infested  with  scouting  parties  of  American  troops, 
and  he,  as  a  tory,  would  have  been  harshly  dealt  with,  if  taken 
by  them  ;  but,  to  make  all  sure,  he  engaged  a  party  of  confiden- 
tial Indians,  to  take  his  horse  and  go  to  her  place  of  concealment, 
and  bring  her  to  him  in  safety.  The  party  reached  the  place, 
and  she  received  the  letter.  He  urged  her  in  his  letter  not  to 
hesitate  a  moment  in  putting  herself  under  their  protection,  but 
she  had  some  sad  misgivings.  The  Indians  had  been  a  terror 
to  that  part  of  the  country,  and  the  tales  she  had  heard  in  her 
childhood,  came  thickly  upon  her  distracted  mind ;  but  the  voice 
of  a  lover  is  law  to  a  confiding  woman. 

She  put  herself  under  their  guidance,  and  they  had  proceeded 
on  their  journey,  she  on  horseback  and  they  on  foot,  to  near 
a  small  spring,  which  may  now  be  seen,  when  they  were  met 
by  another  party  of  Indians,  who  had  heard  of  tbe  reward  which 
her  lover  had  offered,  or  were  sent  by  him,  in  his  impatience  to 
see  her  out  of  danger.  A  quarrel  arose  between  the  parties  of 
Indians,  which  should  have  the  reward,  or  at  least,  how  it  should 
be  shared,  when  an  American  scouting  party  came  in  sight,  and 
commenced  a  brisk  fire  on  the  Indians,  who  were  thus  dispu- 
ting. They  instantly  fled  ;  but,  unwilling  she  should  be  taken 
by  the  scouting  party,  one  of  the  Indians,  while  the  others  had 
fled  to  the  bushes,  pulled  the  girl  from  the  horse,  struck  his 
tomahawk  into  her  forehead,  tore  off' her  scalp,  and  gashed  her 
breast,  and  left  her  under  a  huge  pine.  The  scouting  party 
found  her  there  in  that  situation,  and  they  covered  her  body, 


300  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

and  that  of  an  American  officer,  who  had  just  fallen  by  the  fire 
of  the  Indians,  as  well  as  they  could,  with  leaves  and  earth.  Some 
one  of  the  Indians,  with  their  usual  regard  to  truth,  made  her 
lover  aquainted  with  the  facts,  and  another  proved  his  assertions 
by  exhibiting  the  scalp.  He  knew  the  long  golden  tresses  of 
Miss  Mc  Crea,  and  in  defiance  of  all  danger,  flew  to  the  spot  to 
realize  the  horrid  tale.  He  tore  away  the  thinly  spread  leaves 
and  earth,  clasped  the  still  bleeding  body  to  his  arms,  and  wrap- 
ping it  in  his  cloak,  bore  it  to  the  first  wagon  he  could  find,  and 
there  hid  it  from  the  sight  of  the  world,  until  he  could  dispose  of 
it  according  to  his  affections.  The  driver  was  bribed  to  silence. 
The  lover  sat  by  the  wagon  all  night  in  a  state  but  little  short 
of  a  quiet  delirium,  now  and  then  rousing  himself  to  a  furious 
determination  to  immolate  the  first  Indian  he  could  find ;  but  they 
were  all  in  their  lairs.  The  morning  sun  arose,  and  the  wagon 
went  on,  he  having  determined  to  take  the  corse  on  with  him 
to  some  spot  hallowed  by  the  graves  of  others,  and  there  deposit 
the  sacred  relics  of  the  beloved  of  his  soul.  But  his  neglect  of 
duty,  and  strange  demeanor,  caused  him  to  be  watched  by  his 
superior  officers,  who  heard  something  of  the  rumor,  and  they 
discovered  the  secret,  that  the  corse  of  Miss  Mc  Crea  was  in 
the  wagon.  They  instantly  ordered  the  wagon  to  stop,  and  the 
corse  to  be  buried  by  the  way-side,  kindly  allowing  Captain 
Jones  to  stay  a  few  moments,  "  to  see  her  decent  limbs  composed," 
and  laid  in  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  a  coffin  having  been  procured. 
The  sfrave  is  about  four  miles  from  Fort  Edward. 

Captain  Jones  it  is  said,  survived  her  but  a  few  years ;  and 
this  melancholy  event  is  supposed  to  have  brought  him  to  the 
grave.  Perhaps  the  tragical  death  of  this  amiable  girl  has  given 
a  degree  of  romance  to  her  virtues  and  personal  charms ;  but 
it  is  agreed,  by  all  who  knew  her,  that  she  was  amiable,  virtuous, 
and  accomplished.  The  tomahawk  and  the  scalping  knife  have 
nearly  become  extinct,  as  weapons  of  dread  to  the  women  and 
children  of  our  favored  country.  To  our  primitive  mothers  they 
were  something  more  than  "  air  drawn  daggers,"  creatures  of 
the  imagination  ;  for  on  their  blade  and  gudgeon  were  often  real 
gouts  of  blood. 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  301 

Elizabeth  Ann  Breese  Morse,  the  wife  of  Jedediah  Morse, 
pastor  of  the  first  congregational  church  in  Charlestown  Massa- 
chusetts, was  born,  September  29th,  1766,  in  Wall  street,  in  the 
city  of  New  York.  Her  parents  were  Samuel  Breese,  Esq.,  and 
Rebecca  Finley,  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Samuel  Finley,  pre- 
sident of  Princeton  College.  She  was  the  only  child  of  her 
mother,  who  died  a  few  months  after  her  birth.  She  was  mar- 
ried to  Dr.  Morse  at  her  father's  country  seat  in  Shrewsbury, 
N.  J.,  May  14th,  1789,  and  at  once  removed  to  Charlestown. 
In  that  town  Mrs.  Morse  soon  became  deservedly  popular.  She 
entered  into  all  the  domestic  joys  and  griefs  of  her  parishioners, 
with  the  true  spirit  of  philanthrophy  ;  to  do  good  was  her  prime 
intent,  and  the  good  people  of  Charlestown  reciprocated  this 
feeling,  for  she  often  wanted  a  sympathising  heart,  for  she  was 
the  mother  of  eleven  children,  three  only  of  whom  lived  beyond 
the  age  of  two  years.  These  are  trials  a  mother  only  can  know. 
Mrs.  Morse  was  the  constant  friend  of  the  sick  of  every  grade 
in  society,  and  her  hand  was  open  to  the  claims  of  poverty  and 
distress. 

Mrs.  Morse  had  the  household  affairs  almost  entirely  on  her 
own  hands.  Her  husband,  besides  his  own  parochial  duties,  was 
deeply  engaged  in  literature  and  politics.  The  French  revolu- 
tion had  just  burst  out,  when  he  commenced  life  as  a  married 
man,  and  he,  with  most  of  the  wise  and  good,  saw  ten  thousand 
evils  abroad.  He  considered  the  altar  as  much  endangered  as 
others  in  Europe  did  the  throne,  and  he  called  aloud  on  all  to 
assist  in  stopping  the  current  of  infidelity  now  sweeping  through 
the  country.  At  the  same  time  he  was  anxious  to  diffuse  correct 
information  among  his  fellow  citizens,  and  among  other  things 
he  collected  materials  for  compiling  a  geography  of  this  country. 
This  was  an  arduous  task,  and  he  labored  at  it  faithfully.  It  was 
then  no  easy  thing  to  collect  information  that  could  be  relied  on, 
but  he  spared  no  pains,  and  was  wonderfully  successful  in  his 
undertaking.  While  thus  deeply  engaged  he  wisely  left  his 
domestic  concerns  to  his  wife. 

Mrs.  Morse  Avas  a  woman  of  fine  sense,  of  elegant  manners 

and  friendly  disposition.   Her  intellectual  powers  were  not  siipe- 

26 


302  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

rior  to  her  conversational  talents.  Her  colloquial  style  was 
elegant,  easy  appropriate  and  fascinating.  She  was  acquainted 
with  all  the  passing  events  of  the  day,  and  made  many  judicious 
observations  upon  them.  She  had  not  so  many  fearful  forebodings 
upon  their  results  as  her  husband  and  his  friends ;  she  saw  a 
light  through  the  darkness,  though  it  was  only  a  glimpse  that 
any  one  had  dared  to  avow. 

They  were  so  situated  as  to  see  a  great  deal  of  company, 
from  the  time  she  became  dame  of  the  parish  until  she  left  xt, 
and  never  did  any  one  do  more  justice  to  her  duties  than  Mrs. 
Morse. 

Dr.  Morse  was  deeply  engaged  in  the  Middlesex  Canal ;  the 
first  of  any  importance  ever  made  in  the  United  States.  It  was 
then  a  great  undertaking  to  cut  a  canal  through  a  rough  country 
for  thirty  miles,  without  any  experience  in  such  matters.  Gov- 
ernor Sullivan  was  the  active  agent  for  this  public  work.  He 
was  one  of  the  most  energetic  men  of  the  age.  Loammi  Bald- 
win, Esq.,  father  of  the  present  distinguished  civil  engineer,  a 
self-taught  man,  was  the  skilful  engineer  for  the  work.  But  Dr. 
Morse,  who  believed  in  its  utility,  was  the  person  on  Avhom 
chiefly  rested  the  highest  task  of  all ;  and  that  was  to  persuade 
the  public  of  its  lasting  advantages  to  that  part  of  the  country. 
At  times  they  and  the  other  directors  became  tired  of  their  exer- 
tions, and  grew  restless  under  their  difficulties,  which  were  not 
a  little  enhanced  by  the  animadversions  of  the  ignorant,  who 
pretended  to  be  wise — a  formidable  class  in  every  community. 
At  this  time  they  often  assembled  at  the  house  of  Dr.  Morse, 
socially  if  not  officially,  to  talk  over  their  embarrassments,  which 
was  done  in  the  family  circle.  Mrs.  Morse,  knowing  the  tem- 
perament and  dispositions  of  all  those  engaged  in  the  great 
enterprise,  often  entered  into  the  conversation,  rather  to  amuse 
and  enliven  them,  than  for  any  other  purposes;  and  Baldwin 
has  frequently  said,  "Madam's  conversation  and  dish  of  tea, 
removes  mountains  in  the  course  of  making  the  Middlesex 
Canal."  Dr.  Morse  had,  at  times,  students  in  divinity  with 
him,  and  all  of  them  used  to  speak  of  Mrs.  Morse  with  respect 
and  admiration.     They  bore  testimony  to  the  amenity  of  her  man- 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  303 

ners,  and  to  the  powers  of  understanding,  as  well  as  of  her  sin- 
cerity and  piety. 

After  thirty  years  residence  in  Charleston,  Dr.  Morse  re- 
moved to  New- Haven,  where  he  died  in  June  1826.  She  sur- 
vived him  two  years,  and  died  May  28th,  1828,  aged  sixty-one. 
Her  personal  appearance  was  fine,  until  nearly  the  close  of  her 
life ;  both  philosophy  and  religion  had  given  a  serenity  to  her 
mind,  that  diffused  itself  around  her.  Her  surviving  children 
are  Samuel  Finley  Breese  Morse,  the  president  of  the  Academy 
of  Design  in  the  city  of  New- York,  a  distinguished  historical 
painter;  Sidney  Edwards  Morse,  and  Richard  Carey  Morse, 
editors  of  the  Spectator,  a  religious  paper  printed  in  the  city  of 
New- York;  all  of  them  men  of  letters  and  talents,  who  are  much 
indebted  to  their  mother  for  their  distinction. 


Mary   Wortley   Montague.     Mary  Pierrepont  was  the 

eldest  daughter  of  Evelyn,  duke  of  Kingston,  and  lady  Mary 
Fielding  daughter  of  William,  earl  of  Denbigh.  She  was  born 
at  Thoresby,  in  Nottinghamshire,  about  the  year  1690,  and  lost 
her  mother  in  1694.  The  first  dawn  of  her  genius  opened  so 
auspicuously  that  her  father  resolved  to  cultivate  the  advantages 
of  nature  by  a  sedulous  attention  to  her  early  instruction.  A 
classical  education  was  not  usually  given  to  English  ladies  of 
quality,  when  lady  Mary  Pierrepont  received  one  of  the  best. 
Under  the  same  preceptors  as  Viscount  Newark,  her  brother, 
she  acquired  the  elements  of  the  Greek,  Latin,  and  French  lan- 
guages with  the  greatest  success.  When  she  had  made  a  sin- 
gular proficiency,  her  studies  were  superintended  by  Bishop 
Burnet,  who  fostered  her  superior  talents  with  every  expression 
of  dignified  praise.  Her  translation  of  the  "  Enchiridion"  of 
Epictius  received  his  commendations. 

For  so  complete  an  improvement  of  her  mind,  she  was  much 
indebted  to  uninterrupted  leisure  and  recluse  habits  of  life.  Her 
time  was  principally  spent  at  Thoresby  and  at  Acton,  near  Lon- 
don, and  her  society  confined  to  a  few  friends,  among  whom  the 
most  confidential  appears  to  have  been  Mrs.  Anne  Wortley,  a 
lady  of  sense  and  spirit,  and  heiress  of  the  Wortley  estate  in  York- 


304  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

shire;  She  was  the  wife  of  the  Hon.  Sidney  Montague,  second 
son  of  the  heroic  earl  of  Sandwich,  who  died  in  the  arms  of  vic- 
tory, during  the  memorable  battle  of  Solebay,  in  the  reign  of 
Charles  II. 

In  this  intimacy  originated  her  connection  with  Edward 
Wortley  Montague,  Esq.,  the  eldest  son  of  the  lady  above  men- 
tioned. After  a  correspondence  of  two  years  they  were  pri- 
vately married  by  special  license,  which  bears  date  August  12th, 
1712.  He  had  received  a  classical  education,  and  had  traveled 
through  Germany  to  Venice,  in  1703,  where  he  remained  about 
two  years.  For  more  than  three  years  after  their  marriage,  as 
the  duke  of  Kingston  and  Mr.  Sidney  Montague  were  both 
living,  their  establishment  was  limited,  and  lady  Mary  resided 
chiefly  at  Warncliffe  Lodge,  near  Sheffield,  where  her  son, 
Edward  Wortley  Montague  was  born,  and  his  father  was  prin- 
cipally engaged  in  London,  in  his  attendance  on  parliamentary 
duties  and  his  political  friends.  In  his  cousin,  Charles  Mon- 
tague, Mr.  Wortley  found  an  able  patron,  who,  as  he  was  the 
universal  protector  of  men  of  genius,  was  strictly  associated 
with  Addison  and  Steele.  The  temper  of  Addison  did  not  admit 
of  unreserved  intimacy,  and  Mr.  Wortley  had  not  to  regret  that 
any  man  was  favored  with  a  greater  share  of  his  friendship  than 
himself 

Mr.  Wortley  was  possessed  of  solid  rather  than  brilliant  parts. 
The  soundness  of  his  judgment,  and  the  gracefulness  of  his  ora- 
tory, commanded  the  attention  of  the  house  of  commons,  where 
he  distinguished  himself,  as  having  introduced  several  bills, 
which  were  formed  on  a  truly  patriotic  basis. 

Upon  the  death  of  Queen  Anne,  in  1714,  Charles  Montague 
was  immediately  distinguished  by  the  new  sovereign,  George 
I,  and  created  earl  of  Halifax.  To  the  high  honor  of  the 
Order  of  the  Garter,  was  added  the  important  and  lucrative 
appointment  of  the  first  lord  of  the  treasury.  Mr.  Wortley 
was  now  a  confidential  supporter  of  the  administration,  and 
became  one  of  the  commissioners,  which  circumstance  intro 
duced  him  to  the  court  of  George  I.,  and  occasioned  lady  Mary 
to  quit  her  retirement  at  Warncliffe.      Her   first  appearance 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY,  305 

at  St.  James's  was  hailed  with  that  universal  admiration,  which 
beauty,  enlivened  by  wit,  incontestibly  claims ;  and  while  the 
tribute  of  praise,  so  well  merited,  was  willingly  paid  in  public 
to  the  elegance  of  her  form,  the  charms  of  her  conversation 
were  equally  unrivalled  in  the  first  private  circles  of  the  nobility. 
She  was  in  habits  of  familiar  acquaintance  with  Addison  and 
Pope,  who  contemplated  her  uncommon  genius  at  that  time, 
without  envy. 

In  the  year  1716,  the  embassy  to  the  Porte  became  vacant,  and 
as  the  the  war  between  the  Turks  and  the  Imperialists  raged  with 
almost  incredible  violence,  the  other  powers  of  Europe  were 
ardently  desirous  of  a  mediation  between  them.  Mr.  Wortley 
resigned  his  situation  as  lord  of  the  treasury ;  and  his  appoint- 
ment as  ambassador,  under  the  great  seal,  bears  date,  the  fifth 
of  June,  1716. 

Early  in  the  month  of  August,  the  new  ambassador  com- 
menced an  arduous  journey  over  the  continent  of  Europe  to 
Constantinople,  accompanied  by  lady  Mary,  whose  conjugal 
affection  reconciled  her  to  the  dangers  to  be  unavoidably  encoun- 
tered, in  traversing  the  savage  Turkish  territory,  the  native 
horrors  of  which  were  then  doubled  by  those  of  war.  Pope,  in 
his  letter,  written  after  she  had  left  England,  exclaims,  "may 
that  person,  for  whom  you  have  left  all  the  world,  be  so  just  as 
to  prefer  you  to  all  the  world !  I  believe  his  good  understanding 
has  engaged  him  to  do  so  hitherto,  and  I  think  his  gratitude 
must  in  future." 

It  has  been  said  that  lady  Mary  was  the  first  English  woman 
who  had  the  curiosity  and  spirit  to  visit  the  Levant ;  but  it  is 
believed  that  both  lady  Paget  and  lady  Winchelsea  were 
included  in  the  suite  of  their  lords  during  their  several  em- 
bassies. While  on  her  journey,  and  residing  in  the  Levant, 
lady  Mary  amused  herself  and  delighted  her  friends  by  a  regular 
correspondence,  chiefly  directed  to  her  sister,  the  countess  of 
Mar,  ladies  Rich  and  Thistlewhortle,  both  ladies  of  the  court, 
and  to  Mr.  Pope. 

The  embassy  to  Constantinople  was  formerly  of  great  com- 
mercial importance,  v/hen  the  treasures  of  the  east  were  brought 

26* 


306  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

by  caravans  to  the  different  ports  of  the  Levant,  and  the  Turkey 
company  monopolized  the  merchandize,  which  now  finds  its 
way  to  England  by  other  channels.  Added  to  his  political  con- 
cerns, Mr.  Wortley  had  the  appointment  of  consul-general  of 
the  Levant,  which  gave  considerable  influence  and  emolument 
to  the  British  mission.  Previous  to  lady  Mary's  arrival  at  the 
destined  point  of  her  journey,  the  ambassador  and  his  suite 
rested  about  two  months  at  Adrianople,  to  which  city  the  sultan, 
Achmed  III.,  had  removed  his  court,  from  the  capital  of  his 
dominions.  It  was  there  she  first  became  acquainted  with  the 
customs  of  the  Turks,  and  was  enabled  to  give  so  lively  and 
just  a  picture  of  their  domestic  manners,  and  usages  of  cere- 
mony in  her  celebrated  letters. 

When  she  arrived  at  Constantinople,  her  active  mind  was 
readily  engaged  in  the  pursuit  of  objects  so  novel  as  those  which 
the  Turkish  capital  presented.  While  they  excited  her  imagi- 
nation, she  could  satisfy  her  curiosity,  in  her  ideas  of  its  former 
splendor  as  the  metropolis  of  the  Roman  empire.  Her  classical 
acquirements  rendered  such  investigations  interesting  and  suc- 
cessful. Among  her  other  talents  was  an  extraordinary  facility 
in  learning  languages ;  and  in  the  assemblage  of  ten  embassies 
from  different  countries,  of  which  the  society  at  Pera  and  Bel- 
grade was  composed,  she  had  daily  opportunities  of  extending 
her  knowledge  and  practise  of  them.  The  French  and  Italian 
were  familiar  to  her  before  she  left  England :  and  we  find  in 
her  letters  that  she  had  sufficient  acquaintance  with  the  Ger- 
man, to  understand  a  comedy,  as  it  was  represented  at  Vienna. 
She  even  attempted  the  Turkish  language,  under  the  tuition  of 
one  of  Mr.  Wortley's  dragomans,  or  interpreters,  who  compiled 
for  her  use  a  grammar  and  vocabulary  in  Turkish  and  Italian. 
Of  her  proficiency  in  that  very  difficult  dialect  of  the  oriental 
tongues,  specimens  are  seen  in  her  letters,  in  which  a  transla- 
tion of  some  popular  poetry  appears. 

The  heat  of  Constantinople  during  the  summer  months  is 
excessive,  and  the  European  embassies  usually  retire  to  the 
shores  of  the  Bosphorus,  or  the  village  of  Belgrade,  about  four- 
teen miles  distant.     In  these  delicious  shades,  and  most  beautifu] 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  307 

forest  scenery,  lady  Mary  was  happy  to  pass  her  days.  No 
English  traveler  visits  Belgrade,  without  participating  her 
pleasure  in  her  description,  and  inquiring  after  the  site  of  her 
residence.  At  present  no  part  of  the  house  remains,  for  such  is 
the  fragility  of  Turkish  structures,  excepting  their  mosques,  that 
they  seldom  last  a  century. 

There  was  a  custom  prevalent  among  the  villagers,  and,  in- 
deed, universal  in  the  Turkish  dominions,  which  she  examined 
with  philosophical  curiosity,  and  at  length  became  perfectly 
satisfied  of  its  efficacy.  It  was  that  of  ingrafting,  or  as  it  is  now 
called,  inoculating,  with  variolous  matter,  in  order  to  produce 
a  milder  disease,  and  to  prevent  the  ravages  made  by  the  small 
pox  on  the  lives  and  beauty  of  European  patients.  The  process 
was  simple,  and  she  did  not  hesitate  to  apply  it  to  her  son,  at 
that  time  three  years  old. 

Mr.  Wortley  received  letters  of  recall  under  the  privy  seal, 
October  28th,  1717,  which  are  countersigned  by  his  friend,  Mr. 
Addison,  then  secretary  of  state.  Pursuing  their  voyage  through 
the  Archipelago,  they  landed  at  Tunis,  and  having  crossed  the 
Mediterranean,  arrived  at  Genoa,  and  from  thence  to  Lyons, 
and  Paris.     They  reached  England  in  October,  1718. 

In  a  short  time  after  her  return,  lady  Mary  was  solicited  by 
Mr.  Pope  to  fix  her  summer  residence  at  Twickenham,  and  he 
negociated  with  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller,  for  his  house  in  that  cele- 
brated village.  During  Mr.  Pope's  intimacy  with  lady  Mon- 
tague, he  requested  her  to  sit  for  her  portrait  to  Sir  Godfrey 
Kneller,  with  which  she  complied.  His  satisfaction  with  the 
picture  when  finished,  inspired  the  following  extemporaneous 
effusion. 

"The  playful  smiles  around  the  dimpled  mouth, 

That  happy  air  of  mystery  and  truth. 

So  would  I  draw,  (but  oh  'tis  vain  to  try 

My  narrow  genius,  does  the  power  deny  :) 

The  equal  lustre  of  the  heavenly  mind. 

Where  every  grace  with  every  virtue's  joined. 

Learning  not  vain,  and  wisdom  not  severe; 

With  greatness  easy,  and  with  wit  sincere ; 

With  just  description  show  the  soul  divine, 

And  the  whole  princess  in  my  work  should  shine." 


308  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

From  such  a  reciprocation  of  kindness,  we  shall  turn  with 
regret,  when  we  consider  that  the  poet  of  Twickenham,  did 
afterwards,  with  unprovoked  and  insatiable  asperity,  blacken 
the  fame  of  a  woman  of  genius,  who  avowed  no  competition, 
but  equality  of  talents,  which  was  a  crime  not  to  be  forgiven  by 
him. 

The  court  of  George  I.  was  modeled  after  that  of  Louis  XV., 
and  gallantry,  or  at  least  the  reputation  of  it,  was  the  ambition 
and  employment  of  the  courtiers  of  either  sex.  Lady  Mary 
had  the  pre-eminence  in  beauty  and  in  wit,  and  few  follies  passed 
unmarked  by  her  satirical  animadversions,  which  were  not 
detailed  in  her  letters  to  her  sister,  lady  Mar,  and  other  corres- 
pondents, with  inimitable  raillery.  But  those  who  were  de- 
lighted with  her  sarcasms  were  not  always  secure  from  their 
force,  when  directed  against  themselves;  and  she  numbered 
among  her  acquaintances  more  admirers  than  sincere  friends. 
There  were  many  who,  in  repeating  her  hon  mots,  took  much 
from  the  delicate  poignancy  of  her  wit  to  add  their  own  undis- 
guised malevolence.  In  her  letters  she  frequently  betrays  her 
disappointment  in  the  great  world,  and  declares  that  her  happy 
hours  were  dedicated  to  a  few  intimates.  In  her  retirement  at 
Twickenham  she  enjoyed  the  literary  society  which  resorted  to 
Pope's  villa ;  and  was  received  by  them  with  every  mark  of 
high  respect.  Her  high  birth,  of  course,  entitled  lady  Mary  to 
the  society  and  respect  of  her  equals,  but  her  influence  in  the 
literary  world  attracted  to  her  many  of  the  best  authors  of  that 
day,  who  solicited  not  only  her  patronage,  but  her  critical  opin- 
ions of  the  works,  they  Avere  about  to  oflfer  to  the  public.  Among 
these  was  Doctor  Edward  Young  the  celebrated  author  of"  Night 
Thoughts." 

In  the  year  1739,  her  health  declined,  and  she  took  the  reso- 
lution of  passing  the  remainder  of  her  days  on  the  continent. 
She  left  England  in  the  month  of  July,  and  hastened  to  Venice, 
where  she  formed  many  connexions  with  the  noble  inhabitants, 
and  determined  to  establish  herself  in  the  north  of  Italy.  Hav- 
ing been  gratified  by  a  short  tour  to  Rome,  and  Naples,  she 
returned  to  Brescia,  one  of  the  palaces  of  which  city  she  in 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  309 

habited ;  and  appears  not  only  to  have  been  reconciled  to,  but 
pleased  with  the  Italian  customs.  She  spent  some  months  at 
Avignon,  and  Chamberry.  Her  summer  residence  she  fixed  at 
Louverre,  on  the  shores  of  the  lake  of  Isco,  in  the  Venitian 
territory,  whither  she  had  been  first  invited  on  account  of  the 
mineral  waters,  which  she  found  greatly  beneficial  to  her  health. 
There  she  took  possession  of  a  deserted  palace,  she  planned  her 
garden,  applied  herself  to  the  business  of  a  country  life,  and 
was  happy  in  the  superintendence  of  her  vineyard  and  silk- 
worms. Books,  and  those  chiefly  English,  sent  her  by  lady 
Bute,  supplied  the  deficiency  of  society.  Her  letters  from  this 
retreat,  breathe  atruly  philosophic  spirit,  and  evince  that  her  care 
of  her  daughter  and  her  family  was  ever  nearest  to  her  heart. 
No  one  appears  to  have  enjoyed  her  repose  more  sincerely,  from 
the  occupations  of  the  gay  world.  Her  visits  to  Genoa  and 
Padua,  were  not  unfrequent ;  but  about  the  year  1758,  she  quitted 
her  solitude,  and  settled  entirely  at  Venice,  where  she  remained 
till  the  death  of  Mr.  Wortley,  in  1761.  She  then  yielded  to  the 
solicitations  of  her  daughter,  afterwards  countess  of  Bute,  and  after 
an  absence  of  two  and  twenty  years,  she  began  her  journey  to 
England,  where  she  arrived  in  October.  But  her  health  had 
suffered  much,  and  a  gradual  decline  terminated  in  death,  August, 
21st,  1762,  in  the  seventy -third  year  of  her  age. 

Doctor  Smollet,  in  a  review  of  her  works,  says,  '•  The  publi- 
cation of  these  letters  will  be  an  immortal  monument  to  the 
memory  of  lady  Montague,  and  will  show,  as  long  as  the  English 
language  endures,  the  sprightliness  of  her  wit,  the  solidity  of 
her  judgment,  the  elegance  of  her  taste,  and  the  excellence  of 
her  real  character.  These  letters  are  so  bewitchingly  entertain- 
ing, that  we  defy  the  most  phlegmatic  man  on  earth  to  read  one 
without  going  through  with  them,  or  after  finishing  the  third 
volume,  not  to  wish  there  were  twenty  more  of  them." 

The  era  in  which  she  flourished,  has  been  designated  by  mo- 
dern envy  or  liberality,  "  The  Augustan  in  England,"  and  in  the 
constellation  of  wit  by  which  it  was  illuminated,  and  so  honora- 
bly distinguished  from  earlier  or  successive  ages,  her  acquire- 
ments and  genius  entitled  her  to  a  very  eminent  place.     During 


310  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

her  long  life,  her  literary  pretensions  were  suppressed  by  the 
jealousy  of  her  contemporaries,  and  her  indignant  sense  of  the 
mean  conduct  of  Pope,  and  his  phalanx,  the  self  constitutors  of 
the  fame  and  obloquy  of  that  day,  urged  her  to  her  cabinet  and 
a  small  circle  of  friends,  effusions  of  wisdom  and  fancy,  which 
otherwise  had  been  received  by  society  at  large,  with  equal  in- 
struction and  delight.  She  read  mankind  as  she  had  read  her 
books,  with  sagacity  and  discrimination.  The  influence  of  a 
classical  education  over  her  mind  was  apparent  in  the  purity  of 
her  style,  rather  than  in  the  ambition  of  displaying  her  acquire- 
ments, while  it  enabled  her  to  give  grace  of  expression,  and  no- 
velty, to  maxims  of  morality  and  prudence,  which  would  have 
lost  much  of  their  usefulness,  had  they  been  communicated  in  a 
less  agreeable  manner. 

To  lady  Mary  belongs  the  honor  of  introducing  inoculation 
for  the  small  pox  in  England,  a  practice  which  saved  annually 
many  lives.  To  her  also  is  England  and  America  indebted  for 
the  weeping  willows,  which  hang  their  pensive  boughs  over  the 
hallowed  graves  of  the  dead.  In  a  basket  of  figs,  which  she 
sent  to  Mr.  Pope  from  Constantinople,  a  sprig  of  the  Asiatic 
willow  was  found ;  he  set  it  out  in  his  garden  at  Tv/ickenham, 
and  from  that  twig,  came  all  the  weeping  willows  in  England 
and  America. 


Margaret,  countess  of  Hamburgh,  daughter  and  heiress  of 
Florent  IV.,  count  of  Holland,  is  famous  on  account  of  a  ridicu- 
lous story  repeated  by  many  authors  and  compilers,  viz  :  that 
having  refused  charity  to  a  woman,  whom  she  at  the  same  time 
accused  of  adultery,  she  was  brought  to  bed  of  three  hundred 
and  sixty-five  children.  Several  learned  men  have  endeavored 
to  trace  the  cause  which  could  have  given  rise  to  a  relation  so 
extraordinary.  M.  Struik  fixed  upon  the  epitaphs  of  mother 
and  son,  and  in  conformity  to  the  dates  which  they  bear,  he 
concluded  that  the  countess  was  brought  to  bed  of  twins,  on 
Good  Friday,  1276,  which  was  the  26th  of  March.  Now,  as 
the  year  then  began  on  the  25th  of  March,  there  were  only  two 
days  of  the  year  elapsed,  when  the  countess  was  brought  to  bed, 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  311 

on  which  it  is  said,  that  she  had  brought  into  the  world  as  many 
children  as  there  were  days  in  the  year.  In  fact,  only  two  chil- 
dren are  mentioned  in  history,  John  and  Elizabeth.  The  enigma, 
thus  explained,  is  only  a  common  event,  wherein  there  is  nothing 
of  the  marvelous. 


Tarquinia  Molsa,  grand-daughter  of  Francis  Maria  Molsa, 
was  celebrated  for  her  learning,  her  beauty,  and  her  virtues.  She 
was  highly  esteemed  at  the  court  of  Alphonsus,  duke  of  Ferrera, 
and  honored  with  the  appellation  of  singular,  by  the  Roman 
senators,  who  bestowed  the  rights  of  Roman  citizens  on  her, 
and  the  whole  family  of  Molsa.  Part  of  the  patent  runs  thus: 
"  Though  it  be  new  and  uncommon  for  the  senate  to  admit  wo- 
men into  the  number  of  citizens,  whose  excellencies  and  fame, 
ought  to  be  confined  to  family  affairs,  are  seldom  of  service  to 
the  commonwealth  in  public  matters  ;  yet,  if  there  be  any  among 
them  who  not  only  surpass  the  rest  of  her  own  sex,  but  even  the 
men,  in  almost  all  virtue,  it  is  reasonable,  that  by  a  new  exam- 
ple, new  and  unusual  honors  should  be  paid  to  unusual  merit. 
Since,  therefore,  Tarquinia  Molsa,  a  native  of  Modena,  &c.,  re- 
sembles by  her  virtues  those  famous  heroines,  so  that  she  seems 
to  lack  nothing,  but  being  a  Roman  citizen,  that  this  alone  might 
not  be  wanting  to  complete  her  glory,  the  senate  and  people 
of  Rome  have  decreed  to  present  her  with  the  freedom  of  the 
city,  &c."  She  v/as  the  wife  of  Paulus  Porrinus,  but  losing  him, 
would  never  consent  to  be  married  again,  although  then  young, 
and  without  children.  She  gave  such  lively  tokens  of  her  grief, 
that  Patrinus  compares  her  to  another  Artemisia.  Besides  trans- 
lations from  Greek,  and  Latin  authors,  she  wrote  some  original 
pieces,  and  was  equally  admired  for  her  superior  knowledge  of 
music. 


Julia  Moesa,  grand-mother  of  the  emperor  Heliogabalus,  a 
great  politician,  and  a  virtuous  woman ;  who,  though  her  ambition 
was  gratified  by  seeing  him  seated  on  the  throne,  chiefly  by  her 
conduct  and  courage,  strove  to  counteract  the  bad  counsels  of 
Ms  mother,  and  to  jbring  him  back  to  common  sense  and  duty. 


312  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

She  saw  that  the  Romans  would  not  long  bear  such  a  shameful 
yoke,  and  to  retain  the  sovereignty  in  that  case  to  her  family, 
she  engaged  the  emperor,  who  still  retained  his  respect  for  her, 
to  adopt  his  cousin  Alexander  Severus,  for  his  successor.  Thus 
did  the  wisdom  of  Moesa  second  her  ambition,  and,  while  Heli- 
ogabalus  and  his  mother  were  massacred  by  the  soldiers,  she 
attained  a  happy  old  age,  universally  loved  and  respected,  and 
the  emperor  Alexander  Severus,  her  grand-son,  has  placed  her 
on  the  list  of  divinities. 


Margaret,  the  Semiramis  of  the  North,  third  daughter  of 
Waldemar,  king  of  Denmark,  was  born  in  1353;  and  at  the 
age  of  six  years,  was  contracted  to  Haquin,  king  of  Norway. 
After  the  death  of  her  father,  she  was  unanimously  elected  to  the 
crown  of  Denmark.  Her  ambition  also  grasped  at  Norway, 
and  she  afterwards  marched  into  Sweden,  deposed  Albert,  assu- 
med the  reigns  of  government,  and  was  distinguished  by  the 
apellation  of  the  Semiramis  of  the  North. 

"  The  queen,"  says  a  French  author,  "  was  magnificent  in  her 
pleasures,  grand  in  her  projects,  and  brilliant  in  her  court.  She 
equalled,  in  the  quickness  and  extent  of  her  genius,  the  most 
famous  politicians.  The  king  Waldemar  discovering  in  her, 
while  yet  a  child,  a  surprising  elevation  of  soul,  and  mental 
resources,  said  '  That  nature  had  been  deceived  in  forming  her, 
and  instead  of  a  woman,  had  made  a  hero.'  " 

Though  merciful,  she  made  the  wisest  regulations  for  strict 
justice,  and  to  prevent  offenders  being  screened  from  punish- 
ment. Private  oppressions  and  abuses  she  did  away,  and 
decreed  that  all  manner  of  assistance  should  be  given  to  those 
who  were  thrown  on  her  coast  by  shipwreck  or  misfortune  ;  for 
which  acts  of  humanity,  rewards  were  provided  by  law.  She 
renewed  the  ancient  laws  which  had  slept,  and  exerted  all  her 
power  to  suppress  piracies  in  her  kingdoms ;  and  made  such 
regulations,  as  laid  the  foundation  for  future  commerce.  It  was 
in  her  reign  that  we  first  meet  with  the  mention  in  history  of  the 
copper  mines  of  Sweden. 

Distinguished  at  the  same  time  for  moderation,  sound  judg- 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  313 

ment,  and  persevering  ambition,  Margaret  receives  different 
characters  from  the  Danish  and  Swedish  historians.  The  latter 
were  prejudiced  against  her,  because  she  abridged  the  power  of 
their  nobles,  and  favored  the  clergy;  but  she  was  excelled  by 
none  in  prudence,  policy,  and  a  true  magnanimity.  This  prin- 
cess died  suddenly,  in  1412,  at  the  a2"e  of  fifty-nine. 


Matilda,  daughter  of  Baldwin  de  Lille,  count  of  Flanders, 
and  wife  of  William  of  Normandy,  afterwards  king  of  England, 
her  relation.  The  pope  granted  them  absolution  for  this  mar- 
riage, on  condition  of  building  two  chapels,  one  for  men  and  the 
other  for  women.  The  first  was  erected  by  the  Conqueror,  the 
last  by  Matilda.  She  is  distinguished  for  working  the  famous 
tapestry  in  wool,  portraying  the  descent  upon  England.  The 
leaders  have  their  different  armorial  bearings,  and  the  vessels 
also  are  party  colored.  There  is  a  learned  explanation  given  of 
it,  by  M.  Lancelot,  in  the  eighth  volume  of  "  Memoirs  de  1' Aca- 
deme des  inscriptions."  On  the  walls  of  the  chapel  at  Caen,  the 
one  erected  by  William,  figures  of  himself  and  Matilda  were 
painted.  In  1700  the  chapel  was  pulled  down,  but  they  had 
previously  been  engraved  by  Montfaucon. 


Mary  Stuart,  queen  of  Scots,  was  the  third  child  of  James 
v.,  and  his  wife,  Mary  of  Guise.  That  lady  had  borne  him 
previously,  two  sons,  both  of  whom  died  in  infancy.  Mary  was 
born  on  the  seventh  of  December,  1542,  in  the  palace  of  Lin- 
lithgow. She  was  only  seven  days  old  when  she  lost  her  father, 
who,  at  the  time  of  her  birth,  lay  sick  at  the  palace  of  Falkland. 

The  young  queen  was  crowned  by  Cardinal  Beaton,  at  Stir- 
ling, on  the  ninth  of  September,  1543.  Soon  after  her  birth,  the 
parliament  nominated  commissioners,  to  whom  they  intrusted  the 
charge  of  the  queen's  person,  leaving  all  her  other  interests  to 
the  care  of  her  mother.  The  two  first  years  of  her  life,  Mary 
spent  at  Linlithgow,  where  it  is  said  she  had  the  small  pox,  but 
the  disease  must  have  been  of  a  particularly  gentle  kind,  having- 
left  behind  no  visible  traces.  During  the  greater  part  of  the 
years  1545,  1546,  and  1547,  she  resided  at  Stirling  castle,  in  the 

27 


314  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

keeping  of  Lords  Erskine  and  Livingstone.  She  was  afterwards 
removed  to  Inchmahome,  a  sequestered  island  in  the  lake  of 
Monteith ;  where,  after  reimaining  upwards  of  two  years,  it  was 
thought  expedient,  by  those  who  had  at  the  time  the  disposal  of 
her  future  destiny,  that  she  should  be  removed  to  France.  She 
Avas,  accordingly,  in  the  fifth  year  of  her  age,  taken  to  Dunbar- 
ton,  where  she  was  delivered  to  the  French  admiral,  whose 
vessels  were  waiting  to  receive  her ;  and  attended  by  Lords 
Erskine  and  Livingstone,  her  three  natural  brothers,  and  four 
young  ladies  as  companions,  she  left  Scotland. 

The  thirteen  happiest  years  of  Mary's  life  Avere  spent  in 
France.  She  was  received  at  Brest  by  order  of  Henry  II.,  with 
all  the  honors  due  to  her  rank,  and  royal  destiny.  She  traveled 
by  easy  stages,  to  the  palace  at  St.  Germain  en  Laye ;  and  to 
mark  the  respect  that  was  paid  to  her,  the  prison  gates  of  every 
town  she  came  to  were  thrown  open,  and  the  prisoners  set  free. 
•Shortly  after  her  arrival,  she  was  sent,  along  with  the  king's  own 
'laughters,  to  one  of  the  first  convents  in  France,  where  young 
ladies  of  distinction  were  instructed  in  the  elementary  branches 
of  education. 

The  natural  quickness  of  her  capacity,  and  the  early  acute- 
ness  of  her  mind,  now  began  to  manifest  themselves.  She  made 
rapid  progress  in  acquiring  that  species  of  knowledge  suited  to 
her  years,  and  her  lively  imagination  went  even  the  length  of 
attaching  a  more  than  ordinary  interest  to  the  calm  and  secluded 
life  of  a  nunnery.  It  was  Avhispered,  that  she  had  already  ex- 
pressed a  wish  to  separate  herself  forever  from  the  world ;  and 
it  is  not  impossible,  that  had  this  wish  been  allowed  to  foster  itself 
silently  in  her  bosom,  Mary  might  ultimately  have  taken  the  veil, 
in  which  case,  her  life  would  have  been  a  blank  in  history.  But 
these  views  were  not  consistent  with  the  more  ambitious  projects 
entertained  by  Henry,  and  his  uncles  of  Lorraine.  As  soon  as 
they  were  informed  of  the  bent  which  her  mind  appeared  to  be 
taking,  she  was  again  removed  from  the  convent  to  the  palace. 
The  tears  which  Mary  shed,  however,  on  leaving  the  nunnery, 
proved  the  warmth  of  her  young  heart;  and  that  her  feelings 
were  not  of  merely  momentary  duration,  is  evinced  by  the  fre- 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  315 

quent  visits  she  subsequently  paid  this  asylum  of  her  childhood, 
and  by  the  altar  piece  she  embroidered  with  her  own  hands,  for 
the  chapel  of  the  convent. 

In  no  country  of  Europe  was  education  better  understood,  at 
that  time,  than  in  France.  Francis  I.,  who  remodeled,  on  a 
magnificent  scale,  the  university  of  Paris,  only  followed  the 
example  which  had  already  been  set  him  by  Louis  XII.  The 
youth  of  all  countries  flocked  to  the  French  schools.  A  com- 
petent knowledge  of  Latin,  Greek,  Hebrew,  mathematics,  moral 
philosophy,  and  medicine,  could  be  acquired  in  France  for 
literally  nothing.  The  cardinal  of  Lorraine,  who  was  at  the 
head  of  the  Parisian  University,  quickly  discovering  Mary's 
abilities,  directed  her  studies  with  the  most  watchful  anxiety. 
Before  she  was  ten  years  old,  she  had  made  good  progress  in  the 
French,  Latin,  and  Italian  languages.  French  was  all  her  life 
as  familiar  to  her  as  her  native  tongue ;  and  she  wrote  it  with  a 
degree  of  elegance  which  no  one  could  surpass.  Her  acquaint- 
ance with  Latin  was  not  of  that  superficial  kind,  but  too  common 
in  the  present  day.  The  young  queen's  attention  was  likewise 
directed  to  rhetoric,  to  history,  and  to  the  delightful  study  of 
poetry,  for  which  her  genius  was  suited,  and  for  which  she 
retained  a  predilection  all  her  life. 

In  the  midst  of  her  occupations  and  amusements,  Mary  was 
not  allowed  to  forget  her  native  country.  Frequent  visits  were 
paid  her  from  Scotland,  by  those  personally  attached  to  herself 
or  her  family.  In  1550,  her  mother,  Mary  of  Guise,  came  over 
to  see  her,  accompanied  by  several  of  the  nobility, 

Henry,  to  confirm  the  French  authority  in  Scotland,  was 
eager  to  marry  Francis,  his  son,  to  Mary.  Francis,  the  young 
dauphin,  who  was  much  about  Mary's  own  age,  was  far  inferior 
to  her  both  in  personal  appearance  and  mental  endowments. 
Tney  had  been  playmates  from  infancy ;  they  had  prosecuted  all 
their  studies  together ;  he  loved  her  with  the  tenderest  aflfection; 
It  was  not  in  Mary's  nature  to  be  indifferent  to  those  who  evinced 
affection  for  her,  and  if  her  fondness  for  Francis  was  mingled 
with  pity,  it  has  long  been  asserted  that  "  pity  is  akin  to  love." 

On  the  twenty-fourth  of  April,  1558,  the  nuptials  took  place 


316  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

in  the  church  of  Notre  Dame,  with  great  splendor.  Every  eye 
was  fixed  on  the  youthful  Mary;  and,  inspired  by  those  feelings 
which  beauty  seldom  fails  to  excite,  every  heart  offered  up  prayers 
for  her  future  welfare  and  happiness.  She  was  now  at  that  age 
when  feminine  loveliness  is  perhaps  most  attractive.  It  is  not 
to  be  supposed,  indeed,  that  her  charms,  in  her  sixteenth  year, 
had  ripened  into  that  full  blown  maturity  which  they  afterwards 
attained ;  but  they  were  on  this  account,  only  the  more  fascina- 
ting. Some  have  conjectured  that  Mary's  beauty  has  been  ex- 
tolled far  above  its  real  merits;  and  it  cannot  be  denied  that 
many  vague  and  erroneous  notions  exist  regarding  it.  But  that 
her  countenance  possessed,  in  a  pre-eminent  degree,  the  some- 
thing which  constitutes  beauty,  is  sufficiently  attested  by  the 
unanimous  declaration  of  all  contemporary  writers.  Her  person 
was  finely  proportioned,  and  her  carriage  exceedingly  graceful 
and  dignified. 

Shortly  after  the  espousals,  Mary  and  her  husband  retired  to 
one  of  their  princely  summer  residences,  where  she  discharged 
the  duties  of  a  wife,  without  ostentation.  But  the  intriguing  and 
restless  ambition  of  her  uncles  could  not  allow  her  to  remain 
long  quiet.  About  this  time  Mary  Tudor,  who  had  succeeded 
Edward  VI.  on  the  English  throne,  died ;  and  although  the  par- 
liament had  declared  that  the  succession  rested  in  her  sister 
Elizabeth,  it  was  thought  proper  to  claim  for  Mary  Stuart  a 
prior  right.  But  it  was  destined  that  there  was  to  be  another 
and  more  unexpected  death  at  the  French  court.  Henry  II. 
was  killed  at  a  tournament,  by  Count  Montgomery.  Francis 
and  Mary  succeeded  to  the  throne.  Mary  was  now  at  the  very 
height  of  European  grandeur,  for  she  was  queen  of  two  powerful 
countries,  and  heir  presumptive  of  a  third.  She  stood  unluckily 
on  too  high  a  pinnacle  to  be  able  to  retain  her  position  long. 
Francis  died  after  a  short  reign  of  seventeen  months,  and  the 
heir  to  the  throne,  Charles  IX.  being  a  minor,  Catharine  de 
Medicis  became  once  more  virtually  queen  of  France ;  and  from 
her  Mary  could  expect  no  favors. 

In  August,  1561,  Mary  left  France  with  tears,  ana  was  re- 
ceived in  Scotland  with  every  mark  of  respect.     She  came  alone 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  317 

and  unprotected,  to  assume  the  government  of  a  country  which 
had  long  been  distinguished  for  its  rebellious  turbulence.  Con- 
trasted too  with  her  former  situation,  that  which  she  was  now 
about  to  fill  appeared  particularly  formidable.  By  whatever 
counsel  she  acted,  the  blame  of  all  unpopular  measures  would 
be  sure  to  rest  Avith  her.  If  she  favored  the  protestants,  the 
catholics  were  sure  to  renounce  her,  and  if  she  assisted  the 
catholics,  the  protestants  would  be  again  found  assembling  at 
Perth,  listening,  with  arms  in  their  hands,  to  the  sermons  of 
John  Knox,  pulling  down  the  remaining  monasteries,  and  sub- 
scribing additional  covenants.  Is  it  surprising,  then,  that  she 
found  it  difficult  to  steer  her  course  between  the  rocks  of  Scylla 
and  the  whirlpools  of  Charybdis  ?  If  misfortunes  ultimately 
overtook  her,  the  wonder  unquestionably  ought  to  be,  not  that 
they  ever  arrived,  but  that  they  should  have  been  guarded 
against  so  long. 

To  further  their  political  views,  Mary's  hand  was  sought  for, 
by  princes  of  the  several  European  courts.  The  princes  of  the 
house  of  Austria,  apprehensive  of  the  ambition  of  France,  wished 
a  union  between  the  Scottish  queen,  and  the  archduke  Charles. 
Philip  II.,  envying  the  Austrians  so  important  a  prize,  used  all 
his  influence  to  procure  her  hand  for  his  son  Don  Carlos,  heir 
to  the  extensive  domains  of  the  Spanish  monarchy.  Catharine 
de  Medicis,  jealous  of  them  both,  offered  the  hand  of  the  duke 
of  Anjou,  brother  to  her  former  husband  and  Elizabeth,  the 
artful  queen  of  England,  recommended  lord  Robert  Dudley, 
afterwards  earl  of  Leicester. 

Mary  shunned  all  their  intrigues,  and  followed  the  bent  of 
her  own  inclination,  in  marrying  Henry  Stuart,  lord  Darnley, 
eldest  son  of  the  earl  of  Lennox.  Darnley,  at  this  time  in  the 
bloom  of  youth,  was  distinguished  for  the  beauty  and  grace  of 
his  person,  and  accomplished  in  every  elegant  art;  and  he  also 
professed  the  catholic  religion.  Darnley' s  qualifications  however 
were  superficial,  and  abandoning  himself  to  pleasure  and  the 
vices  of  youth,  he  became  gradually  careless  and  indifferent 
towards  the  queen,  whose  disappointments  and  mortifications 
were  in  proportion  to  the  fervor  of  her  former  sentiments      Her 

07* 

4^    t 


318  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

French  secretary  was  one  David  Rizzio,  who  Avas  possessed  of 
musical  talents,  and  to  whom  she  became  much  attached. 
Darnley  became  jealous  of  Rizzio,  and  he  with  a  number  of  con- 
spirators, took  possession  of  the  palace  on  the  ninth  of  March, 
1566,  while  the  queen  was  at  supper  with  the  countess  of  Argyle 
and  Rizzio.  The  latter  clung  to  the  queen  for  protection,  but 
he  was  torn  from  her,  dragged  to  the  next  apartment,  where  the 
fury  of  his  enemies  put  an  end  to  his  existence,  by  piercing  his 
body  with  fifty-six  wounds.  The  conspirators  put  Mary  under 
guard,  but  she  escaped,  and  by  the  aid  of  Bothwell  and  others, 
she  was  soon  enabled  to  put  her  enemies  at  defiance.  This 
event  served  to  alienate  Mary's  affections  from  Darnley. 

On  the  nineteenth  of  June,  1566,  the  queen  gave  birth  to  a 
son ;  an  event  more  fortunate  to  the  nation  than  to  his  unhappy 
mother,  whose  evil  destiny  received  aggravation  from  a  circum- 
stance which  appeared  so  flattering  to  her  hopes. 

Darnley,  neglected  by  the  queen,  and  despised  by  the  people, 
remained  in  solitude  at  Sterling,  but  alarmed  by  the  rumor  of  a 
design  to  seize  his  person,  he  thought  fit  to  retire  to  his  father 
at  Glasgow.  On  his  way  thither  he  was  seized  with  a  danger- 
ous illness.  Mary  visited  him,  and  it  is  said  prevailed  on  him 
to  be  removed  to  the  capital,  where  she  would  attend  on  him. 
Kirk  of  Field,  a  house  belonging  to  the  provost  of  a  collegiate 
church,  was  prepared  for  his  reception.  The  situation,  on  a 
rising  ground  and  in  an  open  field,  was  recommended  for  the 
salubrity  of  its  air. 

At  two  o'clock,  on  the  morning  of  February  10th,  1567,  the 
city  was  alarmed  by  a  sudden  explosion.  The  house  in  which 
Darnley  resided  was  blown  up  with  gunpowder.  The  dead 
body  of  Henry  and  a  servant,  v\'ho  slept  in  his  room,  were  found 
lying  in  an  adjacent  garden,  without  m.arks  of  violence,  and  un- 
touched by  fire.  Thus  perished  Henry  Stuart,  lord  Darnley, 
in  his  twenty-first  year,  a  youth  whom  the  indulgence  of  nature 
and  fortune  had  combined  to  betray  to  his  ruin. 

This  execrable  deed  gave  rise  to  various  suspicions  and  con- 
iectures,  which,  while  they  glanced  at  the  queen  from  her  new 
sentiments  with  regard  to  her  husband,  were,  with  a  general 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  319 

consent,  directed  towards  Bothwell.  A  proclamation  was  issued 
from  the  throne,  offering  a  considerable  reward  for  the  mur- 
derer. Neither  the  power  and  greatness  of  Bothwell,  nor  his 
Ikvor  with  the  queen,  secured  him  from  the  indignant  sentiment 
of  the  nation.     He  had  a  mock  trial,  in  which  he  was  acquitted. 

The  queen,  on  a  journey  from  Edinburgh  to  Stirling,  to  visit 
her  son,  was  seized  by  a  party  of  Bothwell' s  and  conducted  a 
prisoner  to  his  castle  at  Dunbar.  Here  he  prevailed  on  her  to 
marry  him,  and  on  her  subsequent  appearance  in  public,  she  was 
received  with  a  sullen  and  disrespectful  silence  by  the  people. 

The  transactions  which  had  passed  during  the  last  three 
months  in  Scotland  were  beheld  by  Europe  with  horror  and  de- 
testation. The  murder  of  the  king,  the  impunity  with  which 
his  assassins  were  suffered  to  escape,  and  the  marriage  of  the 
queen  with  the  man  accused  of  being  their  chief,  were  a  series 
of  incidents,  which,  for  their  atrocity  and  rapid  succession, 
were  scarcely  to  be  parallelled  in  the  pages  of  history.  A  ge- 
neral infamy  fell  upon  the  Scotch  nation,  which  was  regarded, 
from  these  circumstances,  as  a  people  void  of  decency,  humanity, 
and  honor. 

The  discontented  nobles  confederated  togfether  and  flew  to 
arms.  Bothwell  and  Mary  were  unable  to  stem  the  opposition ; 
she  surrendered  to  her  enemies,  and  was  conducted  a  captive 
to  the  castle  of  Lochleven.  Mary  had  for  some  Aveeks  suffered 
the  terrors  of  a  prison ;  of  her  deliverance  there  seemed  to  be 
but  little  prospect ;  no  one  had  appeared  as  her  defender  or  advo- 
cate. Thus  solitary,  deserted  and  distressed,  her  persecutors 
reckoned  on  her  fears  and  on  her  sex.  Lord  Lindsay,  the 
fiercest  zealot  of  the  party,  was  employed  to  communicate  their 
plan  to  the  queen,  and  to  obtain  from  her  a  subscription  to  the 
papers  with  which  he  was  charged.  In  the  execution  of  his 
commission,  he  spared  neither  harshness  nor  brutality ;  certain 
death  was  offered  to  the  unhappy  victim,  as  the  alternative  of 
her  refusal.  Thus  urged,  she  yielded  to  the  pressure  of  cir- 
cumstances, and  put  her  signature  to  the  papers  presented  to  her 
by  Lindsay.  By  one  of  these  papers  she  resigned  the  crown, 
renounced  all  share  in  the  government,  and  consented  to  the 


320  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

coronation  of  the  young  king.  By  another,  she  appointed  Mur- 
ray to  the  regency,  and  vested  hira  with  the  powers  and  privi- 
leges of  the  office.  Pierced  with  grief,  and  bathed  in  indignant 
tears,  she  signed  the  deed  of  her  own  humiliation,  and  afforded 
to  her  adversaries  the  instrument  of  her  abasement. 

The  people  were  not  generally  satisfied  with  the  conduct  of 
Murray,  the  regent,  and  the  deserted  party  of  the  queen  began 
gradually  to  reunite.  Such  was  the  disposition  of  the  nation, 
when  Mary,  through  the  medium  of  George  Douglas,  a  youth 
of  eighteen,  contrived  to  escape  from  prison,  She  flew  on  horse- 
back, in  full  speed  to  Hamilton,  where,  before  a  train  of  great 
and  splendid  nobles,  and  an  army  six  thousand  strong,  she  de- 
clared that  the  deeds  signed  by  her,  during  her  imprisonment, 
and  the  resignation  of  her  crown,  were  extorted  from  her  by 
fear.  An  engagement  between  her  forces  and  those  of  Murray 
took  plaQe  at  Hamilton ;  her  army  was  defeated.  She  stood  on 
a  hill,  and  saw  all  that  passed.  In  confusion  and  horror  she 
began  her  flight,  and  so  terrible  was  the  trepidation  of  her 
spirits,  that  she  stopped  not  till  she  reached  the  abbey  of  Dun- 
renan,  in  Galloway,  full  sixty  Scottish  miles  from  the  field  of 
battle.  In  the  space  of  eleven  days  she  had  beheld  herself  a 
prisoner,  at  the  mercy  of  her  greatest  enemies ;  at  the  head  of  a 
powerful  army,  with  a  numerous  train  of  nobles  devoted  to  her 
service ;  and  a  fugitive,  at  the  hazard  of  her  life,  driven,  with  a 
few  attendants,  to  lurk  in  a  corner  of  her  kingdom.  Still 
anxious  and  agitated  in  her  retreat,  she  was  impelled  by  her 
fears  to  an  irretrievable  step,  fatal  to  all  her  future  hopes.  In 
vain  her  attendants,  with  the  lords  Herries  and  Heming,  im- 
plored her  on  their  knees  not  to  confide  in  Elizabeth,  her  reso- 
lution was  not  to  be  shaken,  and  to  England  she  fatally  resolved 
to  fly.  No  longer  an  object  of  jealousy,  but  compassion,  Mary 
trusted  in  the  generosity  of  a  sister  queen,  that  she  would  not 
take  advantage  of  her  calamitous  situation.  She  got  into  a  fish- 
erman's boat,  and  with  about  twenty  attendants,  landed  at  Wor- 
kington, in  Cumberland,  whence,  with  marks  of  respect,  she  was 
conducted  to  Carlisle. 

She  addressed,  on  her  arrival  in  England,  a  letter  to  the  queen, 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  321 

in  which  she  painted,  in  glowing  colors,  the  injuries  she  had 
sustained,  and  implored  the  sympathy  and  assistance  which  her 
present  situation  so  pressingly  required.  Elizabeth  and  her 
council  deliberated  upon  the  measure,  which,  on  this  extraor- 
dinary event,  it  would  be  proper  to  pursue ;  and  at  last  deter- 
mined, in  spite  of  justice  and  humanity,  to  avail  herself  of  the 
advantages  given  her  by  the  confidence  of  her  rival.  Mary 
demanded  a  personal  interview  with  Elizabeth,  but  this  honor 
she  was  told  must  be  denied  to  her.  She  had  no  intention  of 
acknowledging  superiority  in  the  queen  of  England,  who,  she 
expected  would,  as  a  friend,  herself  receive  and  examine  her 
defences.  But  Elizabeth  chose  to  consider  herself  as  umpire 
between  the  Scottish  queen  and  her  subjects  ;  and  she  prepared 
to  appoint  commissioners  to  hear  the  pleadings  of  both  parties, 
and  wrote  to  the  regent  of  Scotland,  to  empower  proper  persons 
to  appear,  in  his  name,  and  produce  what  could  be  alledged  in 
vindication  of  his  proceedings, 

Mary,  who  had  hitherto  relied  on  the  professions  of  Elizabeth, 
was  by  this  proposal  at  once  undeceived,  and  she  was,  in  despite 
of  her  remonstrances  and  complaints,  conducted  to  Bolton,  a 
castle  of  lord  Scroop,  on  the  borders  of  Yorkshire.  Commis- 
sioners met  on  both  sides,  and  after  protracted  deliberations  for 
four  months,  they  left  things  just  as  they  found  them. 

The  last  eighteen  years  of  Mary's  life  were  spent  in  impris- 
onment, and  are  comparatively  a  blank  in  her  personal  history. 
She  was  transported,  at  intervals,  from  castle  to  castle,  and  was 
intrusted  sometimes  to  the  charge  of  one  nobleman,  and  some- 
times to  another ;  but  for  her  the  active  scenes  of  life  were  past; 
the  splendor  and  dignit}?-  of  a  throne  were  to  be  enjoyed  no 
longer ;  the  sceptre  of  her  native  country  was  never  more  to 
grace  her  hands ;  her  will  ceased  to  influence  a  nation ;  her  voice 
did  not  travel  beyond  the  walls  that  witnessed  her  confinement. 
She  came  into  England  at  the  age  of  twenty -five,  in  the  prime 
of  womanhood,  the  full  vigor  of  health,  and  the  rapidly  ripening 
strength  of  her  intellectual  powers.  She  was  there  destined  to 
feel,  in  all  its  bitterness,  that  "  hope  delayed  maketh  the  heart 
sick,"     Year  after  year  passed  slowly  on,  and  year  after  year, 


322  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

her  spirits  became  more  exhausted,  her  health  feebler,  and  her 
doubts  and  fears  confirmed,  till  they  at  length  settled  in  despair. 
Premature  old  age  overtook  her  before  she  was  past  the  meridian 
of  life ;  and  for  some  time  before  her  death,  her  hair  was  white 
"with  other  snows  than  those  of  age."  Yet,  during  the  whole 
of  this  long  period,  amid  sufferings  which  would  have  broken 
many  a  masculine  spirit,  and  which,  even  in  our  own  times,  have 
been  seen  to  conquer  those,  who  had  conquered  empires,  Mary 
retained  the  innate  grace  and  dignity  of  her  character,  never 
forgetting  that  she  had  been  born  a  queen,  or  making  her  calam- 
ities an  excuse  for  the  commission  of  any  petty  meanness,  which 
she  would  have  scorned  in  the  days  of  her  prosperity.  Full  of 
incident  as  her  previous  life  had  been,  brilliant  in  many  of  its 
achievments,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  forbearance,  forti- 
tude, and  magnanimity,  displayed  in  her  latter  years,  do  not 
redound  more  highly  to  her  praise  than  all  that  preceded.  Eliza- 
beth wished  for  some  plausible  pretext  to  take  away  the  life  of 
the  unhappy  Mary,  w^hom,  though  so  defenceless,  she  regarded  as 
a  dangerous  rival.  The  duke  of  Norfolk  made  offers  of  mar- 
riage to  Mary,  to  which  she  consented,  in  case  she  should  be 
liberated.  His  scheme  also  was  to  favor  the  catholic  cause,  and 
on  its  being  discovered  he  was  thrown  into  prison,  where,  after 
six  months  confinement,  he  was  liberated,  on  condition  of  his 
holding  no  further  intercourse  with  the  queen.  He  was  how- 
ever arrested  the  second  time,  and  executed. 

A  conspiracy  soon  after  took  place,  through  the  blind  affection 
of  the  English  catholics  for  Mary,  and  their  implacable  hatred 
of  Elizabeth ;  that,  while  it  proved  fatal  to  the  life  of  one  queen, 
has  left  on  the  memory  of  the  other  an  indelible  stain.  It  was 
a  conspiracy  of  two  zealous  catholics,  to  take  the  life  of  Eliza- 
beth. The  plot  was  revealed  in  confidence  to  Anthony  Babing- 
ton,  a  young  gentleman  of  Derbyshire,  possessing  a  large  fortune 
and  many  amiable  qualities,  whom  the  archbishop  of  Glasgow 
had  recommended  to  the  notice  of  Mary.  The  conspirators, 
through  treachery,  were  arrested,  and  it  is  said,  two  letters  from 
Mary,  were  found  with  Babington.  This  was  a  pretext  to  repre- 
sent these  fanatics  as  the  instruments  of  the  captive  queen. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  3.2$ 

Determined  that  no  circumstance  of  solemnity  might  he  wanting, 
suited  to  the  dignity  of  the  person  arraigned,  Elizabeth  appointed, 
by  a  commission  under  the  great  seal,  forty  persons,  the  most 
illustrious  in  the  kingdom  for  their  rank  and  birth,  together  with 
five  judges,  for  the  decision  of  the  cause. 

The  unhappy  captive,  after  the  indignities  she  had  suffered, 
doubted  not  but  that  her  fate  drew  near.  Every  moment  she 
was  in  expectation  of  ending  her  days  by  poison,  or  by  some 
other  secret  method. 

The  commissioners  appointed  by  Elizabeth,  arrived  at  Fother- 
ingay,  on  the  eleventh  of  October,  1586.  Mary  solemnly  pro- 
tested her  innocence  of  the  crime  laid  to  her  charge,  and  having 
never  countenanced  any  attempt  against  the  life  of  Elizabeth,  she 
refused  to  acknowledge  the  jurisdiction  of  her  commissioners. 
"  I  came,"  said  she,  "  into  the  kingdom  an  independent  sovereign, 
to  implore  the  queen's  assistance,  not  to  subject  myself  to  her 
authority.  Nor  is  my  spirit  so  broken  by  past  misfortunes,  or 
intimidated  by  present  dangers,  as  to  stoop  to  any  thing  unbe- 
coming the  majesty  of  a  crowned  head,  or  that  will  disgrace  the 
ancestors  from  whom  I  am  descended,  and  the  son  to  whom  I 
shall  leave  my  throne.  If  I  must  be  tried,  princes  can  only  be 
my  peers.  However  noble  may  be  their  birth,  the  subjects  of 
the  queen  of  England  are  of  a  rank  inferior  to  mine.  Since  my 
arrival  in  the  kingdom  I  have  been  uniformly  confined  as  a  pris- 
oner. Its  laws  never  afforded  to  me  any  protection.  Let  them 
not  now  be  perverted  in  order  to  take  away  my  life." 

Entreaties  and  arguments  were  urged  by  the  commissioners 
against  the  resolution  of  Mary.  An  argument  used  by  Hatton, 
the  vice  chancellor,  shook,  at  length,  her  firmness.  By  avoiding 
a  trial,  he  told  her,  she  was  an  enemy  to  her  own  reputation, 
and  deprived  herself  of  an  opportunity  of  making  her  innocence 
manifest. 

Unassisted  by  any  friend  or  counsellor,  Mary  suffered  herself 
to  be  deluded  by  this  plausible  pretence,  and  fell  into  the  toils 
spread  for  her  entanglement.  Solicitous  for  the  vindication  of 
her  honor,  she  relaxed  in  the  dignified  firmness  suited  to  the 
rank  of  a  queen,  .  . 


324  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

She  made  her  own  defence ;  and  her  conduct  before  her  judges 
displayed  the  magnanimity  of  a  heroine,  tempered  by  the  gentle- 
ness and  modesty  of  a  woman.  The  judges  were  predetermined 
to  find  her  guilty ;  the  trial  was  a  mere  pretence  to  give  a  sanc- 
tion to  their  proceedings;  they  were  unanimous  in  declaring 
Mary  "  to  be  accessary  to  the  conspiracy  of  Babington,  and  to 
have  imagined  divers  matters,  tending  to  the  hurt,  death,  and 
destruction  of  Elizabeth,  contrary  to  the  express  words  of  the 
statute  made  for  the  security  of  the  life  of  the  queen." 

On  Tuesday,  February  7th,  1587,  the  earls  of  Shrewsbury 
and  Kent  arrived  at  Fotheringay,  and  read  in  Mary's  presence 
the  warrant  for  her  execution,  which  was  appointed  for  the 
ensuing  day.  "  That  soul,"  said  Mary,  calmly  crossing  herself 
"is  unworthy  the  joys  of  heaven,  which  repines  because  the 
body  must  endure  the  stroke  of  the  axe.  I  submit  willingly  to 
the  lot  which  heaven  has  decreed  for  me ;  though  I  did  not  ex- 
pect the  queen  of  England  would  set  the  first  example  of  viola- 
ting the  sacred  person  of  a  sovereign  prince."  Then  laying 
her  hand  on  a  bible,  which  happened  to  be  near  her,  she  so- 
lemnly protested  her  innocence. 

At  the  scaffold  she  prayed  for  the  prosperity  of  her  son,  and 
for  a  long  and  peaceable  reign  to  Elizabeth.  She  hoped  for 
mercy,  she  declared,  only  through  the  death  of  Christ,  at  the 
foot  of  whose  image  she  willingly  shed  her  blood.  With  intrepid 
calmness,  she  laid  her  neck  on  the  block ;  her  hands  were  held 
by  one  executioner,  while  the  other,  with  two  blows,  dissevered 
her  head  from  her  body.  "So  perish  all  the  enemies  of  Eliza- 
beth!" exclaimed  the  dean,  as  he  held  up  the  streaming  head. 
"  Amen,"  answered  the  earl  of  Kent  alone ;  every  other  eye  was 
drowned  in  tears ;  every  other  voice  was  stifled  in  commisera- 
tion. Thus,  after  a  life  of  forty-four  years  and  two  months, 
nineteen  years  of  which  had  been  passed  in  captivity,  perished 
the  lovely  and  unfortunate  Mary,  queen  of  Scots. 


Mary,  Glueen  of  Hungary,  was  sister  to  the  emperor  Charles 
v.,  and  married,  in  1521  to  Lewis,  king  of  Hungary,  who  was 
soon  after  slain  at  the  battle  of  Mohatz.     His  widow  was  ap- 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  32S 

pointed  governess  of  the  low  countries,  in  1531,  and  in  that  sta- 
tion behaved  with  great  courage  and  prudence.  She  headed 
the  troops  in  several  actions,  and  was  so  fond  of  hunting,  as  to 
be  called  Diana,  and  the  huntress.  She  was  a  favorer  of  the 
protestants,  and  had  a  taste  for  literature.  Between  her  and 
Henry  II.,  king  of  France,  there  was  a  great  animosity,  and  she 
greatly  ravaged  the  French  provinces.  Henry,  on  his  part, 
invaded  Flanders  and  destroyed  Mary's  palace,  who  in  return 
carried  her  devastations  into  Picardy.  The  Spanish  soldiers 
called  her  the  mother  of  the  camp.  She  resigned  the  govern- 
ment in  1555,  and  died  in  Spain  in  1558. 


Clara  Cantarini  Matraini,  was  of  a  noble  family  of 
Lucca,  and  one  of  the  best  poets  of  her  time.  She  was  living 
in  1562.  Her  style  is  said  to  be  pure,  correct,  and  full  of  force 
and  elegance :  her  ideas  clear,  noble,  and  ingenious ;  and  she 
particularly  excels  as  a  lyrist.  Many  of  her  pieces  were  printed 
at  Venice,  in  1560.  Many  others  were  subjoined  to  her  letters, 
which  were  printed  at  Lucca,  1 595.  In  these  she  appears  well 
instructed  in  sacred  history,  and  in  theology  in  general ;  one  of 
them,  to  her  son,  contains  many  useful  maxims  of  manners  and 
conduct.  Her  "  Christian  Meditations,"  mixed  with  very  beau- 
tiful scraps  of  poetry,  and  concluded  by  a  female's  ode  to  the 
Almighty,  were  also  printed  there.  She  also  wrote  a  life  of 
the  Virgin  Mary,  in  which  are  many  pieces  of  poetry ;  others 
are  found  in  different  collections.  She  was  well  skilled  in  the 
Platonic  philosophy,  was  generally  esteemed  by  the  literati  of 
that  age,  and  corresponded  with  many  of  them. 


Judith  Murray,  wife  of  John  Murray,  the  first  Universalist 
preacher  in  the  United  States,  was  born  at  Gloucester,  Cape 
Ann,  a  town  in  the  county  of  Essex,  and  commonwealth  of  Mas- 
sachusetts, in  the  year  1751.  She  was  the  daughter  of  Ignatus 
Sargent,  a  merchant  of  Cape  Ann,  who  was  appointed  governor 
of  Mississippi,  after  that  portion  of  country  was  erected  into  a 
territory.     Her  connection  was  truly  a  love  match ;    for  Mr. 

Murray  was  ten  years  older  than  herself;    \vas  an  unsettled 

28 


326  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

preacher  of  a  strange  doctrine,  which  was  execrated  by  almost  the 
whole  community.  He  was  a  widower  too,  and  his  prospects 
were  most  gloomy ;  but  he  was  facetious,  playful,  ready  in 
conversation,  and  affectionate  in  his  disposition,  and  early  gave 
her  the  preference  to  any  one  he  had  seen  in  this  country.  She 
too  had  broken  from  the  pale  of  orthodoxy  before  she  saw  him, 
in  thought,  if  not  in  word ;  and  her  kindred  were  all  liberal  in 
their  religious  creeds.  Miss  Sargent  had  the  best  education 
that  could  be  had  at  that  time.  Mr.  M array,  after  the  close  of 
the  revolution,  in  a  good  part  of  which  he  acted  as  chaplain, 
settled  in  Boston,  and  was  a  popular  preacher  for  many  years. 
He  had  his  faith  tried  most  severely,  for  he  was  as  helpless  as 
a  child  for  several  years  before  his  death ;  but  his  mind  was  as 
serene  as  a  vernal  morn,  and  he  waited  his  entering  into  his 
rest  without  a  murmur  or  a  sigh.  There  is  no  creed  but  might 
be  proved  by  the  serenity  and  hopes  of  a  death  bed. 

Mrs.  Murray  was  one  of  those  women  who  dared  use  her 
senses  and  her  pen,  when  in  this  country  it  was  almost  a  crime 
for  a  woman  to  be  an  author.  As  early  as  1798,  she  wr®te  the 
•'  Repository  and  Gleaner,"  three  volumes.  They  were  first  pub- 
lished in  the  Massachusetts  Magazine,  with  the  signature  of 
"  Constantia."  She  also  wrote  poetical  essays,  "  Honora  Mar- 
teris,"  in  the  Boston  Monthly  Magazine  of  that  day. 

She  wrote  with  ease  and  elegance,  and  would  have  shown 
more  genius  if  she  had  dared  to  come  out  boldly,  as  women  of  our 
time  venture  to  do,  when  they  have  talents  and  acquirements. 

Every  woman  is  in  a  good  degree  identified  with  her  hus- 
band, and  it  could  not  be  driven  from  the  minds  of  her  readers, 
that  she  was  the  wife  of  a  universalist.  Still  there  were  many  in 
Boston  who  appreciated  her  merits,  and  spoke  of  her  with  re- 
spect. She  had  an  only  daughter,  whose  education  she  super- 
intended herself,  and  made  her  one  of  the  most  learned  young 
ladies  of  that  "  city  of  schools."  Mrs.  Murray  found  among 
her  own  relatives  and  connexions,  a  highly  intellectual  society. 
The  Sargents  are  distinguished  for  taste  and  capacity.  She  had 
fine  conversational  powers,  and  enlivened  and  instructed  every 
circle  ?he  entered.     Mr.   Murray  died  in    1815,  after  a  long 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  327 

sickness  of  six  years.  Her  daughter  had  married  and  gone  to 
the  Natches,  and  she  now  followed  her.  But  the  climate  not 
suiting  an  eastern  constitution  of  her  age,  she  died  there,  hut 
not  until  a  residence  of  nearly  fire  years.  She  departed  this 
life,  June  6th,  1820,  in  the  sixty-ninth  year  of  her  age.  She 
was  a  woman  of  most  exemplary  morals,  of  a  strong  under- 
standing, and  wrote  with  ease  and  elegance.  In  that  day  critics 
abounded,  but  writers  were  few,  and  the  judgment  of  readers 
had  not  been  so  well  informed  as  since.  We  are  much  indebted 
to  those  writers,  both  male  and  female,  but  particularly  the  latter, 
who  ventured  to  write  and  publish  forty  years  ago.  They  found 
no  partiality  from  men,  nor  hardly  any  mercy  from  their  own 
sex.  We  now  look  over  their  productions  with  great  delight, 
such  as  they  are,  and  believe  that  if  full  scope  had  been  given 
to  their  g-enius,  they  would  have  been  much  superior  to  what 
we  now  find  them.  Truly  they  were  situated  like  the  daughter 
of  the  pilgrim  mother,  who  was  confined  by  narrow  under- 
clothes in  order  that  she  should  not  take  pround  strides,  and 
then  was  censured  for  mincing  steps;  but  more  unfortunate 
than  she,  they  had  no  one  who  with  maternal  solicitude  would 
come  into  court  and  explain  the  matter,  and  set  all  things  right. 


Olympia  Fulvia  Morata,  a  learned  Italian  lady,  was  bom 
at  Ferrera,  in  1526.  Her  father  taught  the  belles  lettres  in  seve- 
ral cities  in  Italy,  and  his  reputation  as  a  teacher  advanced  him  to 
be  preceptor  to  the  young  princes  of  Ferrera,  sons  of  Alphonso  I. 
The  uncommon  parts  and  turn  for  literature  which  he  discovered 
in  his  daughter,  induced  him  to  cultivate  them,  and  she  soon 
made  a  very  extraordinary  progress.  The  princess  of  Ferrera, 
was  at  that  time  studying  polite  literature,  and  a  companion  in 
the  same  pursuits  being  thought  expedient,  Morata  was  called  to 
court,  where  she  was  heard,  by  the  astonished  Italians,  to  declaim 
in  Latin,  to  speak  Greek,  to  explain  the  paradoxes  of  Cicero, 
and  to  answer  any  questions  that  were  put  to  her.  Her  father 
dying,  and  her  mother  being  an  invalid,  she  was  obliged  to  return 
home,  in  order  to  take  upon  herself  the  administration  of  the 
family  affairs,  and  the  education  of  three  sisters  and  a  brother. 


328  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

all  which  she  conducted  with  judgment  and  success.     She  was 
married,  on  leaving  the  court,  to  a  young  German  physician,  by 
the  name  of  Greunthlerus,  who  had  taken  his  medical  degree 
at  Ferrera,  and  had  fallen  in  love  with  her,  for  her  beauty  and 
talents.     She  went  with  her  husband  to  Germany,  and  took  her 
little  brother  with  her,  whom  she  carefully  instructed  in  the 
Latin  and  Greek  languages.     They  arrived  at  Augsburg  in 
1548,  and  after  a  short  stay  there,  went  to  Sweinfurt,  in  Fran- 
conia,  but  had  not  been  long  there,  before  the  city  was  besieged 
and  burnt.     They  escaped,  however,  but  remained  in  great  dis- 
tress until  the  elector  Palatine  invited  Greunthlerus  to  be  pro- 
fessor of  Physic   at  Heidelburg.     He  entered  upon  this  new 
office  in  1554,  and  began  to  enjoy  some  degree  of  repose,  when 
illness,  occasioned  by  the  hardships  they  had  undergone,  seized 
upon  Morata,  and  proved  fatal,  October,  6th,  1555,  before  she 
was  quite  twenty-nine  years  old.     She  died  in  the  protestant  re- 
ligion, which  she  embraced  on  her  coming  to  Germany,  and  to 
which  she  resolutely  adhered.     Her  husband  and  brother  did 
not  long  survive  her,  and  were  interred    in  the  same   grave, 
in  the  church  of  St.  Peter,  where  is  a  Latin  epitaph  to  their 
memory.     Most  of  her  works  were  burnt  with  the  town  of 
Schweinfurt,  the  remainder  were  collected  and  published   by 
Ccelius  Secundus  Curio,  and  are  to  be  found  in  the  libraries  of 
the  learned.     They  consist  of  orations,  dialogues,  letters  and 
translations. 


Maria  Sibylla  Merian,  much  and  justly  esteemed  for  her 
skill  in  drawing  insects,  flowers,  and  other  subjects  of  natural 
history,  was  born  at  Frankfort,  on  the  Maine,  in  1647 ;  being  the 
girand-daughter  and  daughter  of  Dutch  engravers,  of  some  celeb- 
rity, whose  talents  were  continued  and  improved  in  her.     She 
was  instructed  by  Abraham  Mignon.     She  married  John  An- 
duez  Graff,  a  skilful  painter  and  architect,  of  Nuremberg,  but 
the  fame  she  had  previously  attached  to  her  own  name,  pre- 
sented that  of  her  husband  from  being  adopted.     They  had  two 
hildren,  both  daughters,  who  were  also  skilful  in  drawing.  By 
aberal  offers  from  Holland,  this  ingenious  couple  were  induced 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  329 

to  settle  there.  This  spirited  woman  traveled  on  the  continent, 
and  crossed  the  Atlantic  to  South  America,  to  study  nature,  and 
to  make  drawings  from  her  entomological  researches.  Madame 
Merion  died  at  Amsterdam,  in  1717,  at  the  age  of  seventy.  Her 
daughters,  Dorothea,  and  Helena,  extended,  in  a  new  edition  of 
her  works,  the  number  of  plates  from  their  ow^n  pencils.  Her 
works  have  been  several  times  printed  in  French  and  Dutch, 
and  in  French  and  Latin.  Many  of  the  original  drawings  of 
this  artist  are  in  the  British  Museum  in  two  large  volumes,  which 
were  purchased  by  Sir  Hans  Sloane,  at  a  large  price.  The 
father  of  this  lady,  Matthew  Merion,  published  many  volumes 
of  topographical  engravings,  and  collections  of  plates  in  sacred 
history.  In  Holland  her  works  are  sold,  when  found,  at  a  very 
high  price,  and  their  biographers  are  just  to  her  memory. 


Damaris  Masham,  a  lady  distinguished  for  her  piety  and 
extraordinary  accomplishments,  was  the  daughter  of  Dr.  Ralph 
Cudworth,  born  at  Cambridge  on  the  eighteenth  of  January, 
1658.  Her  father,  perceiving  the  bent  of  her  genius,  took  such 
particular  care  of  her  education,  that  she  quickly  became  remark- 
able for  her  uncommon  learning  and  piety.  She  was  the  second 
wife  of  Sir  Francis  Masham,  of  Oaies,  in  the  county  of  Essex, 
Bart.,  by  whom  she  had  an  only  son,  a  laA^yer  of  considerable 
eminence.  She  was  skilled  in  arithmetic,  geography,  chronol- 
ogy, history,  philosophy,  and  divinity.  She  owed  a  great  part 
of  her  improvement  to  the  care  of  the  famous  Mr.  Locke,  who 
lived  many  years  in  her  family,  and  at  length  died  in  her  house 
at  Oates ;  and  whom  she  treated  with  the  utmost  generosity  and 
respect.  She  wrote  "  A  discourse  concerning  the  love  of  God," 
published  in  London  1696;  and  "  Occasional  Thoughts  in  refer- 
ence to  a  virtuous  and  Christian  life."  This  amiable  lady  died 
jn  1708,  and  was  buried  in  the  cathedral  church  at  Bath,  where 
a  monument  is  erected  to  her  memory,  full  of  just  and  affec- 
tionate praise.  The  mind  of  the  Christian  philosopher  was 
infused  into  this  example  of  industry  and  piety.  This  learned, 
pious,  and  excellent  pupil  was  worthy  so  distinguished  a  master. 

Where  Locke  was  there  must  have  been  intelligence. 

28* 


330  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Julia  Mammea,  mother  of  Alexander  Severus.  She  was  pos- 
sessed of  equal  genius  and  courage ;  and  educated  her  son  for 
the  throne,  in  the  same  manner  as  Fenelon  afterwards  educated 
the  duke  of  Burgundy,  rendering  him  at  the  same  time  a  man 
of  virtue  and  sensibility.  Severus  thought  so  highly  of  his 
mother,  that  he  did  nothing  without  her  counsel,  and  paid  more 
deference  to  it  than  to  that  of  any  other  person.  This  princess 
having  heard  of  Origen,  wished  to  see  him,  and  in  the  confer- 
rences  they  had  together,  conceived  so  high  an  opinion  of  Chris- 
tianity, that  she  is  supposed  to  have  embraced  it.  She  was  mur- 
dered with  her  son,  in  Gaul,  by  the  discontented  soldiery. 


Maria  Theresa,  empress  of  Germany  and  queen  of  Hun- 
gary, was  born  at  Vienna,  the  capital  of  Austria,  on  the  thir- 
teenth of  May,  1717.  Her  father,  Charles  VL,  was  a  man  of  a 
slow  and  phlegmatic  temper,  a  narrow  capacity,  and  a  grave 
and  formal  deportment ;  he  was  seldom  seen  to  smile,  and  was 
only  once  known  to  laugh.  He  attached  the  most  extraordinary 
importance  to  the  observance  of  courtly  etiquette,  yet  was  not 
without  good  sense,  and  the  capability  of  strong  domestic  affec- 
tion. He  however  appears  to  have  had  but  two  passions,  hunting 
and  music.  The  imperial  musician  presided  in  his  own  or- 
chestra, and  his  two  daughters,  Maria  Theresa  and  Maria 
Anne,  danced  in  the  ballet.  It  should  not  be  omitted,  speaking 
of  the  character  of  Charles,  that  he  was  remarkable  for  a  com- 
passionate and  benevolent  disposition,  for  honest  intentions,  and 
for  an  extreme  aversion  to  all  hypocrisy.  These  qualities  were 
not,  however,  sufficient  to  ensure  either  his  own  or  his  people's 
happiness.  His  reign  was,  upon  the  whole,  one  of  the  most 
disgraceful  and  disastrous  in  the  history  of  the  empire. 

The  mother  of  Maria  Theresa,  was  Elizabeth  Christina,  of 
Brunswick,  a  lovely  and  amiable  woman,  who  possessed  and 
deserved  her  husband's  entire  confidence  and  affection.  Lady 
Wortley  Montague,  who  visited  the  court  of  Vienna  only  a  few 
months  before  the  birth  of  Maria  Theresa,  speaks  of  the  beauty 
and  beneficence  of  the  empress,  and  of  her  sweet  and  gracious 
manners  with  a  kind  of  rapture. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  331 

The  two  archduchesses  were  brought  up  under  the  superin- 
tendence of  their  mother,  and  received  an  education,  in  no 
respect  different  from  that  of  other  young  ladies  of  rank,  of  the 
same  age  and  country,  except  that  they  were  kept  in  more  strict 
seclusion.  Maria  Theresa  had  beauty,  spirit,  and  understand- 
ing. Maria  Anne  was  as  lovely  as  her  yister,  but  inferior  in 
capacity,  and  of  a  very  mild  and  reserved  disposition;  both 
sisters  were  tenderly  attached  to  each  other. 

It  does  not  appear  to  hav^e  entered  into  the  mind  of  Charles, 
to  give  his  daughter  an  education  befitting  the  situation  to  which 
she  was  destined ;  he,  indeed,  admitted  her,  at  the  age  of  four- 
teen, to  be  present  at  the  sittings  of  the  council,  but  he  never 
disclosed  to  her  any  of  his  affairs,  never  conversed  with  her  on 
any  subject  of  importance,  never  even  allowed  her  an  opportu- 
nity of  acquiring  a  knowledge  of  the  forms  of  business.  While 
she  sat  in  the  council,  she  was  always  silent ;  but  it  was  observ- 
ed, that,  however  protracted  the  deliberations,  she  never  betrayed 
any  signs  of  Aveariness,  but  listened  with  the  most  eager  atten- 
tion to  all  she  could,  and  all  she  could  not  understand.  The 
only  use  she  made  of  her  new  privilege,  was  to  be  the  bearer  of 
petitions  in  behalf  of  those  who  prevailed  on  her  benevolence  or 
her  youthful  inexperience,  to  intercede  for  them.  The  emperor 
becoming  at  length  impatient  at  the  increasing  number  of  these 
petitions,  said  to  her  on  one  occasion,  "  You  seem  to  think  a 
sovereign  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  grant  favors  !"  "I  see 
nothing  else  that  can  make  a  crown  supportable,"  replied  his 
daughter  :  she  was  then  about  fifteen. 

Her  taste  for  music  was  highly  cultivated.  She  studied  Ital- 
ian, with  much  success :  but  much  of  her  time  was  ffiven  to 
the  strict  observance  of  the  forms  of  the  Roman  catholic  faith ; 
and  though  she  could  not  derive  from  the  bigoted  old  women 
and  ecclesiastics  around  her,  any  very  enlarged  and  enlightened 
ideas  of  religion,  her  piety  was  at  least  sincere.  She  omitted 
no  opportunities  of  obtaining  information  relative  to  the  history 
and  geography  of  her  country,  and  she  appears  to  have  been 
early  possessed  with  a  most  magnificent  idea  of  the  power  and 
grandeur  of  her  family,  and  of  the  lofty  rank  to  which  she  was 


332  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

destined.  This  early  impression  of  her  own  vast  importance 
was  only  counterhalanced  by  her  deep  feelings  and  habits  of 
devotion,  and  by  the  natural  sweetness  and  benignity  of  her 
disposition. 

Such  was  Maria  Theresa  at  the  age  of  sixteen  or  seventeen. 
She  had  been  destined  in  her  infancy  to  marry  the  young  duke 
of  Lorraine,  who  was  brought  up  at  the  court  of  Vienna  as  her 
intended  husband.  It  is  very,  very  seldom,  that  these  political 
state  marriages  terminate  happily,  qf  harmonize  with  the  wishes 
and  feelings  of  those  principally  concerned ;  but  in  the  present 
case  "the  course  of  true  love"  was  blended  with  that  of  policy. 
Francis  Stephen,  of  Lorraine,  was  the  son  of  Leopold,  duke  of 
Lorraine,  surnamed  the  Good  and  Benevolent.  His  grandmo- 
ther, Leonora,  of  Austria,  was  the  eldest  sister  of  Charles  VL, 
and  he  was  consequently  the  cousin  of  his  intended  bride. 
Francis  was  not  possessed  of  shining  talents,  but  he  had  a  good 
understanding,  and  an  excellent  heart;  he  was,  besides,  emi- 
nently handsome,  indisputably  brave,  and  accomplished  in  all 
the  courtly  exercises  that  became  a  prince  and  a  gentleman.  In 
other  respects  his  education  had  been  strangely  neglected ;  he 
could  scarcely  read  or  write.  From  childhood,  the  two  cousins 
had  been  fondly  attached,  and  their  attachment  Avas  perhaps  in- 
creased, at  least  on  the  side  of  Maria  Theresa,  by  those  political 
obstacles  which  long  deferred  their  union,  and  even  threatened 
at  one  time,  a  lasting  separation. 

Charles  died,  October  20th,  1740.  Maria  Theresa  was  in 
her  twenty-fourth  year,  when  she  became,  in  her  own  right, 
queen  of  Hungary  and  Bohemia,  archduchess  of  Austria,  sove- 
reign of  the  Netherlands,  and  duchess  of  Milan,  of  Parma,  and 
Placentia ;  in  right  of  her  husband  she  was  also  grand  duchess 
of  Tuscany.  Naples  and  Sicily  had  indeed  been  wrested  from 
her  father,  but  she  pretended  to  the  right  of  those  crowns,  and 
long  entertained  the  hope  and  design  of  recovering  them.  She 
reigned  over  some  of  the  finest  and  fairest  provinces  of  Europe  ; 
over  many  nations  speaking  many  different  languages,  governed 
by  different  laws,  divided  by  mutual  antipathies,  and  held  to- 
gether by  no  com.mon  link  except  that  of  acknowledging  the 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  333 

same  sovereign.  That  sovereign  was  now  a  young  inexperi- 
enced woman,  who  had  solemnly  sworn  to  preserve  inviolate 
and  indivisible,  the  vast  and  heterogeneous  empire,  transmitted 
to  her  feeble  hand,  as  if  it  had  depended  on  her  will  to  do  so. 
Within  the  first  few  months  of  her  reign,  France  deferred,  and 
at  length  declined  to  acknowledge  her  title.  The  elector  of 
Bavaria,  supported  by  France,  laid  claim  to  Austria,  Hungary, 
and  Bohemia.  The  king  of  Spain  also  laid  claim  to  the  Aus- 
trian succession,  and  proposed  to  seize  on  the  Italian  states ;  the 
king  of  Sardinia  claimed  Milan ;  the  king  of  Prussia,  not  satis- 
fied with  merely  advancing  pretentions,  pounced  like  a  falcon 
on  his  prey,  and  seized  upon  the  whole  duchy  of  Silesia,  which 
he  laid  waste  and  occupied  with  his  armies. 

Like  the  hind  of  the  forest,  when  the  hunters  are  abroad,  who 
hears  on  every  side  the  fierce  baying  of  the  hounds,  and  stands 
and  gazes  around  with  dilated  eye  and  head  erect,  not  knowing 
on  which  side  the  fury  of  the  chase  is  to  burst  upon  her, — so 
stood  the  lovely  majesty  of  Austria,  defenceless,  and  trembling 
for  her  very  existence,  but  not  weak,  nor  irresolute,  nor  in  any 
wise  despairing. 

Maria  Theresa  was  by  no  means  an  extraordinary  woman. 
In  talents  and  strength  of  character,  she  was  inferior  to  Catherine 
of  Russia  and  Elizabeth  of  England,  but  in  moral  qualities,  far 
superior  to  either;  and  it  maybe  questioned  whether  the  brilliant 
genius  of  the  former,  or  the  worldly  wisdom  and  sagacity  of  the 
latter,  could  have  done  more  to  sustain  a  sinking  throne,  than 
the  popular  and  feminine  virtues,  the  magnanimous  spirit,  and 
unbending  fortitude  of  Maria  Theresa.  She  had  something  of 
the  inflexible  pride  and  hereditary  obstinacy  of  her  family ;  her 
understanding  naturally  good,  had  been  tinged  with  bigotry  and 
narrowed  by  illiberal  prejudices  ;  but  in  her  early  youth  these 
qualities  only  showed  on  the  fairer  side,  and  served  only  to  im- 
part something  fixed  and  serious  to  the  vivacity  of  her  dispo- 
sition, and  the  yielding  tenderness  of  her  heart.  She  had  all 
the  self  will  and  all  the  sensibility  of  her  sex ;  she  was  full  of 
kindly  impulses  and  good  intentions  ;  she  was  not  naturally  am- 
bitious, though  circumstances  afterwards  developed  that  passion 


334  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

in  a  strong  degree ;  she  could  be  roused  to  temper,  but  this  was 
seldom,  and  never  so  far  as  to  forget  the  dignity  and  prosperity 
of  her  sex.  It  should  be  mentioned,  (for  in  the  situation  in 
Avhich  she  stood,  it  was  by  no  means  an  unimportant  advantage,) 
that  at  this  period  of  her  life  few  women  could  have  excelled 
Maria  Theresa  in  personal  attractions.  Her  figure  was  tall, 
and  formed  with  perfect  elegance;  her  deportment  at  once 
graceful  and  majestic;  her  features  were  regular;  her  eyes  were 
gray,  and  full  of  lustre  and  expression ;  she  had  the  full  Aus- 
trian lips,  but  her  mouth  and  smile  were  beaatiful ;  her  com- 
plexion was  transparent ;  she  had  a  profusion  of  fine  hair ;  and 
to  complete  her  charms,  the  tone  of  her  voice  was  peculiarly 
soft  and  sweet.  Her  strict  religious  principles,  or  her  early  and 
excessive  love  for  her  husband,  or  the  pride  of  her  royal  station, 
or  perhaps  all  these  combined,  had  preserved  her  character  from 
coquetry.  She  was  not  unconscious  of  her  powers  of  captivation, 
but  she  used  them  not  as  a  woman,  but  as  a  queen ;  not  to  win 
lovers,  but  to  gain  over  refractory  subjects. 

The  perils  which  surrounded  Maria  Theresa  at  her  accession, 
were  such  as  would  have  appalled  the  strongest  mind.  She  was 
not  only  encompassed  with  enemies  without,  but  threatened  with 
commotions  within;  she  was  without  an  army,  without  a  treasury, 
and,  in  point  of  fact,  without  a  ministry ;  for  never  was  such  a  set 
of  imbecile  men  collected  together  to  direct  the  government  of  a 
kingdom,  as  those  who  composed  the  conference,  or  state  council 
of  Vienna,  during  this  period.  They  agreed  in  but  one  thing; 
in  jealousy  of  the  duke  of  Lorraine,  whom  they  considered  as  a 
foreigner,  and  who  was  content  perforce  to  remain  a  mere  cypher. 

The  first  war  in  which  Maria  Theresa  was  engaged,  was 
begun  in  self  defence ;  never  was  the  sword  drawn  in  a  fairer 
quarrel  or  in  a  juster  cause.  Her  great  adversary  was  Frede- 
rick II.,  of  Prussia,  aided  by  France  and  Bavaria.  On  the  side 
of  the  young  queen  were  England  and  Holland.  Nothing  could 
exceed  the  enthusiasm  which  her  helpless  situation  excited 
among  the  English  of  all  ranks.  The  queen  of  Hungary  was  a 
favorite  toast,  her  head  a  favorite  sign.  The  parliament  voted 
large  subsidies  to  support  her,  and  the  ladies  of  England,  with 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY,  335 

the  ola  duchess  of  Marlborough  at  their  head,  subscribed  the  sum 
of  one  hundred  thousand  pounds,  which  they  offered  to  her  ac- 
ceptance. Maria  Theresa,  who  had  been  so  munificent^'^  aided 
by  the  king  and  parliament,  either  did  not  think  it  consistent 
with  her  dignity  to  accept  of  private  gifts,  or  from  some  other 
reason,  declined  the  proffered  contribution. 

The  war  of  the  Austrian  succession  lasted  nearly  eight  years. 
The  battles  and  the  sieges,  the  victories  and  defeats,  the  treaties 
made  and  broken,  the  strange  events  and  vicissitudes  which 
marked  its  course,  may  be  found  duly  chronicled  and  minutely 
detailed  in  the  histories  of  France,  England,  and  Germany. 

Her  situation  at  the  commencement  of  the  war  appeared  des- 
perate. Frederick  occupied  Silesia,  and  in  the  first  great  battle 
in  which  the  Austrians  and  Prussians  were  engaged,  (the  battle 
of  Molwitz,)  the  former  were  entirely  defeated.  The  French 
army  poured  across  the  Rhine,  and  joined  the  elector  of  Bava- 
ria.    They  advanced  in  concert  within  a  few  leagues  of  Vienna. 

The  young  queen,  threatened  in  her  capital,  looked  round  her 
in  vain  for  aid  and  council.  Her  allies  had  not  sent  her  the 
promised  assistance ;  her  most  sanguine  friends  drooped  in 
despair ;  her  ministers  looked  on  each  other  in  blank  dismay. 
At  this  crisis,  the  spirit  of  a  feeling  and  high  minded  woman, 
saved  herself,  her  capital,  and  her  kingdom.  Maria  Theresa 
took  alone  the  resolution  of  throwing-  herself  into  the  arms  of 
her  Hungarian  subjects. 

Who  has  not  read  of  the  scene  which  ensued,  which  has 
been  so  often  related,  so  often  described  ?  and  yet  we  all  feel  that 
we  cannot  hear  of  it  too  often.  When  we  first  meet  it  on  the 
page  of  history,  we  are  taken  by  surprise,  as  though  it  had  no 
business  there ;  it  has  the  glory  and  freshness  of  old  romance. 
Poetry  never  invented  any  thing  half  so  striking,  or  that  so 
completely  fills  the  imagination. 

The  Hungarians  had  been  oppressed,  enslaved,  insulted  by 
Maria's  predecessors.  In  the  beginning  of  her  reign,  she  had 
abandoned  the  usurpations  of  her  ancestors,  and  had  voluntarily 
taken  the  oath  to  preserve  all  their  privileges  entire.  This  was 
partly  from  policy,  but  it  was  also  partly  from  her  own  just  and 


336  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

kind  nature.  The  hearts  of  the  Hungarians  were  already  half 
won  when  she  arrived  at  Presburg,  in  .Tune,  1741.  She  was 
crowned  queen  of  Hungary  on  the  13th,  with  the  peculiar 
national  ceremonies ;  the  iron  crown  of  St.  Stephen  was  placed 
on  her  head ;  the  tattered  hut  sacred  robe  thrown  over  her  own 
rich  habit,  which  was  incrusted  with  gems  ;  his  scimitar  girded 
to  her  side.  Thus  attired,  and  mounted  on  a  superb  charger, 
she  rode  up  the  royal  mount,  and  according  to  the  antique  cus- 
tom, drew  her  sabre  and  defied  the  four  quarters  of  the  world. 
The  crown  of  St.  Stephen,  which  had  never  before  been  placed 
on  so  small  or  so  lovely  a  head,  had  been  lined  with  cushions  to 
make  it  fit ;  it  was  also  very  heavy,  and  its  weight,  added  to  the 
heat  of  the  weather,  incommoded  her ;  when  she  sat  down  to 
dinner  in  the  great  hall  of  the  castle,  she  expressed  a  wish  to 
lay  it  aside.  On  lifting  the  diadem  from  her  brow,  her  hair, 
loosened  from  confinement,  fell  down  in  luxuriant  ringlets  over 
her  neck  and  shoulders  ;  the  glow,  which  the  heat  and  emotion 
had  diffused  over  her  complexion,  added  to  her  natural  beauty, 
and  the  assembled  nobles,  struck  with  admiration,  could  scarce 
forbear  shouting  their  applause. 

The  effect  which  her  youthful  grace  and  loveliness  produced 
on  this  occasion,  had  not  yet  subsided,  when  she  called  together 
the  diet,  or  senate  of  Hungary,  in  order  to  lay  before  them  the 
situation  of  her  affairs.  She  entered  the  hall  of  the  castle,  habit- 
ed in  the  Hungarian  costume,  but  still  in  deep  mourning  for  her 
father;  she  traversed  the  apartment  with  slow  and  majestic  step, 
and  ascended  the  throne,  where  she  stood  for  a  few  minutes 
silent.  The  chancellor  of  the  state  first  explained  the  situation 
to  which  she  was  reduced,  and  then  the  queen,  coming  forward, 
addressed  the  assembly  in  Latin,  a  language  which  she  spoke 
fluently,  and  which  is  still  in  common  use  among  the  Hungarians. 

"  The  disastrous  state  of  our  affairs,"  said  she,  "has  moved 
us  to  lay  before  our  dear  and  faithful  states  of  Hungary,  the 
recent  invasion  of  Austria,  the  danger  now  impending  over  this 
kingdom,  and  propose  to  them  the  consideration  of  a  remedy. 
The  very  existence  of  the  kingdom  of  Hungary,  of  our  own 
person,  of  our  children,  of  our  crown,  are  now  at  stake;  and 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  337 

forsaken  by  all,  we  place  our  sole  hope  in  the  fidelity,  arms,  and 
long  tried  valor  of  the  Hungarians." 

She  pronounced  these  simple  words  in  a  firm  but  melancholy 
tone.  Her  beauty,  her  magnanimity,  and  her  distress,  roused 
the  Hungarian  chiefs  to  the  wildest  pitch  of  enthusiasm.  They 
drew  their  sabres  half  out  of  their  scabbards,  then  flung  them 
back  to  the  hilt  with  a  martial  sound,  which  re-echoed  through 
the  lofty  hall,  and  exclaimed  with  one  accord,  "  Our  swords  and 
our  blood  for  your  majesty ;  we  will  die  for  our  king,  Maria 
Theresa !"  Overcome  by  sudden  emotion,  she  burst  into  a  flood 
of  tears.  At  this  sight,  the  nobles  became  almost  frantic  with 
enthusiasm.  They  retired  from  her  presence,  to  vote  supplies 
of  men  and  money,  which  far  exceeded  all  her  expectations. 

The  devoted  loyalty  of  her  Hungarian  subjects  changed  the 
aspect  of  her  affairs.  Tribes  of  wild  warriors,  from  the  Turkish 
frontiers,  Croats,  Pandours,  and  Sclavonians,  never  before  seen 
m  the  wars  of  civilized  Europe,  crowded  round  her  standard, 
and  by  their  strange  appearance,  and  savage  mode  of  warfare, 
struck  terror  into  the  disciplined  soldiers  of  Germany. 

A  temporary  peace  was  succeeded  by  another  Avar  with 
Prussia;  but  at  length  the  treaty  of  Aix  la  Chapelle,  which  was 
signed  by  the  empress  queen,  October  23d,  1748,  gave  repose  to 
Europe.  Thus  terminated  a  bloody  and  extensive  war,  which, 
at  the  commencement,  threatened  the  very  existence  of  the  house 
of  Austria;  but  the  magnanimity  of  Maria  Theresa,  the  zeal 
of  her  subjects,  and  the  support  of  Great  Britain,  triumphed 
over  her  numerous  enemies,  and  secured  an  honorable  peace. 
She  recovered  the  imperial  dignity,  which  had  been  nearly 
wrested  from  the  house  of  Austria ;  she  maintained  a  standing- 
army  of  one  hundred  and  eight  thousand  men ;  she  visited  her 
camps  and  garrisons,  and  animated  her  troops  by  her  presence, 
her  gracious  speeches,  and  her  bounties. 

But  Maria  Theresa  accomplished  other  designs  far  more 
worthy  of  herself  and  of  her  sex.  She  made  some  admirable 
regulations  in  the  civil  government  of  her  kingdom ;  she  cor- 
rected many  abuses  which  had  hitherto  existed  in  the  adminis- 
tration  of  justice;    she   abolished   forever   the  use  of  torture 

29 


338  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

throughout  her  dominions.  The  collection  of  the  revenues 
were  simplified ;  the  great  number  of  tax  gatherers,  which  she 
justly  considered  as  an  engine  of  public  oppression,  was  dimin- 
ished. Her  father  had  left  her  without  a  single  florin  in  the 
treasury.  In  1750,  after  eight  years  of  war,  and  the  loss  of 
several  states,  her  revenues  exceeded  those  of  her  predecessors 
by  six  millions. 

Maria  Theresa  in  an  evil  hour  formed  an  alliance  with  France. 
Another  war  of  seven  years  duration  with  Prussia  followed. 
By  the  treaty  of  1763,  all  places  and  prisoners  were  given  up; 
not  a  foot  of  territory  was  gained  or  lost  by  either  party.  Silesia 
continued  in  the  possession  of  Prussia ;  the  political  affairs  of 
Germany  remained  in  precisely  the  same  state  as  before  the 
war;  but  Saxony  and  Bohemia  had  been  desolated,  Prussia 
almost  depopulated,  and  more  than  five  hundred  thousand  men 
had  fallen  in  battle. 

Francis  died,  August  18th,  1765.  Maria's  attachment  to  her 
husband  had  been  fond  and  passionate  in  her  youth,  and  it  was 
not  only  constant  to  death,  but  survived  even  in  the  grave. 
Francis  was  her  inferior  in  abilities ;  his  influence  was  not  felt, 
like  hers,  to  the  extremity  of  the  empire ;  but  no  man  could  be 
more  generally  beloved  in  his  court  and  family.  His  children 
idolized  him,  and  he  was  to  them  a  fond  and  indulgent  father. 

Maria  Theresa  was  the  mother  of  sixteen  children,  all  born 
within  twenty  years.  There  is  every  reason  to  suppose  that 
her  naturally  warm  affection,  and  her  strong  sense,  would  have 
rendered  her,  in  a  private  station,  an  admirable,  an  exemplary 
parent ;  and  it  was  not  her  fault,  but  rather  misfortune,  that  she 
was  placed  in  a  situation  where  the  most  sacred  duties  and 
feelings  of  her  sex  became  merely  secondary.  While  her  nu- 
merous family  were  in  their  infancy,  the  empress  was  constantly 
and  exclusively  occupied  in  the  public  duties  and  cares  of  her 
high  station ;  the  affairs  of  government  demanded  almost  every 
moment  of  her  time.  The  court  physician.  Von  Swietar,  waited 
on  her  each  morning  at  her  levee,  and  brought  her  a  minute 
report  of  the  health  of  the  princes  and  princesses.  If  one  of 
them  was  indisposed,  the  mother,  laying  aside  all  other  cares, 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  339 

immediately  flew  to  their  apartment.  They  all  spoke  and  wrote 
Italian  with  elegance  and  facility.  Thus  all  her  children  were 
brought  up  with  extreme  simplicity.  They  were  not  allowed 
to  indulge  in  personal  pride  or  caprice  ;  their  benevolent  feelings 
were  cultivated  both  by  precept  and  example.  They  were  sed- 
ulously instructed  in  the  "  Lives  of  the  Saints,"  and  all  the 
tedious  forms  of  unmeaning  devotion,  in  which,  according  to 
the  sincere  conviction  of  their  mother,  all  true  piety  consisted. 
A  high  sense  of  family  pride,  an  unbounded  devotion  to  the  house 
of  Austria,  and  to  their  mother,  the  empress,  as  the  head  of 
that  house,  was  early  impressed  upon  their  minds,  and  became  a 
ruling  passion,  as  well  as  a  principle  of  conduct  with  all  of  them. 

We  have  only  to  glance  back  upon  the  history  of  the  last 
fifty  years  to  see  the  result  of  this  mode  of  education.  We  find 
that  the  children  of  Maria  Theresa,  transplanted  into  different 
countries  of  Europe,  carried  with  them  their  national  and  family 
prejudices  ;  that  some  of  them,  in  later  years  supplied  the  de- 
fects of  their  early  education,  and  became  remarkable  for  talent 
and  for  virtue.  That  all  of  them,  even  those  who  were  least 
distinguished  and  estimable,  displayed  occasionally  both  good- 
ness of  heart  and  elevation  of  character;  and  that  their  filial 
devotion  to  their  mother,  and  what  they  considered  her  interests, 
was  carried  to  an  excess,  which  in  one  or  two  instances,  proved 
fatal  to  themselves.  ^ 

It  is  very  amusing  to  contrast  the  routine  of  her  private  life 
with  that  of  the  heartless,  ostentatious  Elizabeth,  and  the  disso- 
lute, splendid  Catherine.  Maria  Theresa  lived  in  the  interior 
of  her  palace  with  great  simplicity.  She  breakfasted  on  a  cup 
of  milk  coiTee ;  then  dressed  and  heard  mass.  She  then  pro- 
ceeded to  business.  Every  Tuesday  she  received  the  ministers 
of  the  different  departments ;  other  days  were  set  apart  for  giv- 
ing audience  to  foreigners  and  strangers.  There  were  stated 
days  on  which  the  poorest  and  meanest  of  her  subjects  were 
admitted,  almost  indiscriminately ;  and  so  entire  was  her  confi- 
dence in  their  attachment  and  her  own  popularity,  that  they 
might  whisper  to  her,  or  see  her  alone  if  they  required  it.  At 
other  times  she  read  memorials,  or  dictated  letters  or  despatches, 


340  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

signed  papers,  &c.  At  noon  her  dinner  was  brought  in,  con- 
sisting of  a  few  dishes,  served  with  simplicity.  She  usually- 
dined  alone,  like  Napoleon,  and  for  the  same  reason,  to  econo- 
mize time.  After  dinner,  she  was  engaged  in  public  business 
until  six ;  after  that  hour  her  daughters  were  admitted  to  join 
in  her  evening  prayer ;  if  they  absented  themselves,  she  sent  to 
know  if  they  were  indisposed;  if  not,  they  were  certain  of 
meeting  with  a  maternal  reprimand  on  the  following  day.  At 
half  past  eight  or  nine  she  retired  to  rest. 

Much  of  her  time  was  spent  in  devotion ;  the  eighteenth  day 
of  every  month,  was  consecrated  to  the  memory  of  her  husband, 
after  his  death ;  and  the  month  of  August  was  spent  in  retire- 
ment, in  penance,  and  in  celebrating  masses  and  requiems  for 
the  repose  of  his  soul.  It  is  computed  that  she  devoted  five 
hours  out  of  fifteen  to  her  religious  devotions,  and  this  is  related 
as  a  thing  incredible,  and  as  more  becoming  a  "  bigoted  abbess 
than  a  great  sovereign ;"  but  was  it  too  much,  that,  when  de- 
clining in  years,  after  having  proved  in  her  own  person  the 
nothingness  of  all  human  grandeur,  she  should  give  up  one 
third  of  her  time  to  prepare  for  that  better  world  to  which  she 
Avas  fast  approaching?  Alfred,  in  the  prime  of  life,  did  the 
same ;  and  with  regard  to  the  puerile  and  minute  observances, 
the  credulity  and  intolerance,  which  were  mingled  with  her  re- 
ligious feelings,  we  must  remember ^he  system  of  faith  in  which 
she  had  been  educated ;  the  same  turn  of  mind  which  sent 
Maria  Theresa  on  a  pilgrimage  to  "  our  Lady  of  Heren-haltz," 
or  to  pray  and  tell  her  beads  at  the  sepulchre  of  her  husband, 
would,  in  a  protestant  country,  have  made  her  half  a  saint,  or  at 
least  evangelical. 

She  founded  or  enlarged  in  different  parts  of  her  extensive 
dominions  several  academies  for  the  improvement  of  the  arts  and 
sciences ;  instituted  numerous  seminaries  for  the  education  of  all 
ranks  of  people;  reformed  the  public  schools,  and  ordered  prizes 
to  be  distributed  among  the  students  who  made  the  greatest  pro- 
gress in  learning,  or  were  distinguished  for  propriety  of  be- 
havior, or  purity  of  morals.  She  established  prizes  for  those 
who  excelled  in  different  branches  of  manufacture,  in  geometry. 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  341 

mining,  smelting  metals,  and  even  spinning.  She  particularly 
turned  her  attention  to  agriculture,  which,  on  a  medal,  struck  by 
her  order,  was  entitled  the  "  Art  which  nourishes  all  other  arts," 
and  founded  a  society  of  agriculture  at  Milan,  with  bounties  to 
the  peasants  who  obtained  the  best  crops.  She  took  away  the 
pernicious  rights  which  the  convents  and  churches  enjoyed,  of 
affording  an  asylum  to  all  criminals  without  distinction;  she 
suppressed  the  inquisition,  which,  though  curbed  by  the  civil 
power,  still  existed  at  Milan.    • 

But  the  great  stain  upon  the  character  and  reign  of  Maria 
Theresa,  an  event  which  cannot  be  spoken  of  without  pain  or  re- 
luctance, was  the  infamous  dismemberment  of  Poland,  in  1772. 
This  dark  deed,  no  doubt,  originated  with  Prussia,  but  to  Maria 
Theresa  belongs  the  disgrace  of  an  accomplice  in  this  foul 
procedure. 

In  the  year  1778,  she  was  again  nearly  plunged  into  a  war 
with  her  old  adversary,  Frederick  of  Prussia.  After  a  long 
negotiation,  and  many  difficulties,  which  she  met  and  overcame 
with  firmness  and  talent  worthy  of  her  brightest  days,  the  peace 
was  signed  at  Teschen,  in  Saxony,  on  the  the  thirteenth  of  May, 
the  birth  day  of  the  empress  queen. 

The  treaty  of  Teschen  was  the  last  political  event  of  Maria 
Theresa's  reign,  in  which  she  was  actively  and  personally  con- 
cerned. Her  health  had  been  for  some  years  declining,  and  for 
several  months  previous  to  her  death,  she  was  unable  to  move 
from  her  chair  without  assistance.  An  English  traveller,  who 
wa.s  introduced  to  her  about  this  time,  describes  her  as  an  old 
lady,  immensely  corpulent,  habited  in  the  deepest  weeds,  v/ith 
her  gray  hair  slightly  powdered,  and  turned  back  under  a  cap 
of  black  crape.  Notwithstanding  her  many  infirmities,  her  de- 
portment was  still  dignified,  her  manner  graceful  as  well  as 
gracious,  and  her  countenance  benign. 

She  had  long  been  accustomed  to  look  death  in  the  face,  and 
when  the  hour  of  trial  came,  her  resignation,  her  fortitude,  and 
her  humble  trust  in  Heaven  never  failed  her.  Her  agonies 
during  the  last  ten  days  of  her  life,  were  terrible,  but  never  drew 

from  her  a  single  expression  of  complaint  or  impatience.     She 

29* 


342  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

was  only  apprehensive  that  her  reason  and  her  physical  strength 
might  fail  her  together.  She  was  once  heard  to  say,  "  God 
grant  that  these  sufferings  may  soon  terminate,  for  otherwise,  I 
know  not  if  I  can  much  longer  endure  them." 

After  receiving  the  last  sacraments,  she  summoned  all  her 
family  to  her  presence,  and  solemnly  recommended  them  to  the 
care  of  the  emperor  Joseph,  her  eldest  son.  "  My  son,"  said  she, 
•'as  you  are  the  heir  to  all  my  worldly  possessions,  I  cannot  dis- 
pose of  them ;  but  my  children  are  still,  as  they  have  ever  been, 
my  own.  I  bequeath  them  to  you,  be  to  them  a  father.  I  shall 
die  contented  if  you  promise  to  take  that  office  upon  you."  She 
then  tamed  to  her  son  Maximilian  and  her  daughters,  blessed 
them  individually,  in  the  tenderest  terms,  and  exhorted  them  to 
obey  and  honor  their  elder  brother  as  their  father  and  sovereign. 
After  repeated  fits  of  agony  and  suffocation,  endured  to  the  last, 
with  the  same  invariable  serenity  and  patience,  death,  at  length, 
released  her,  and  she  expired  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  November, 
1 780,  in  her  sixty-fourth  year. 

The  earthly  dower  of  Maria  Theresa  was  certainly  the  rich- 
est ever  granted  to  a  mortal.  A  strong  mind  and  a  feeling 
heart,  royalty  and  beaut}-,  long  life  and  prosperity,  a  happy  mar- 
riage, a  numerous  family,  her  people's  love,  the  admiration  of 
the  universe  !  These  were  hers ;  and  her  biographers  generally 
sum  up  her  character  by  justly  styling  her  the  most  blameless 
and  beneficent  sovereign  who  ever  wore  a  crown.  While  Ave 
grieve  that  the  feminine  mistakes,  passions,  and  antipathies  of 
Maria  Theresa  should  cost  humanity  so  dear  ;  yet  still  it  is  true 
that  the  real  elevation  of  her  mind,  and  the  warm  and  generous 
affections  of  her  heart,  rendered  her  one  of  the  most  admirable 
ind  amiable  of  women. 


Jane,  countess  of  Montfort,  flourished  in  1341  and  1342. 
The  count  de  Montfort,  heir  male  of  Brittany,  had  seized  that 
duchy  in  opposition  to  Charles  of  Blois,  the  French  king's 
nephew,  who  had  married  the  grand -daughter  of  the  late  duke. 
Sensible  that  he  could  expect  no  favor  from  Philip,  Montfort  made 
a  voyage  to  England,  and  offered  to  do  homage  to  Edward  III. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  343 

as  king  of  France,  for  Brittany;  proposing  a  strict  alliance 
for  the  support  of  each  other's  pretensions.  Little  negociation 
was  necessary  to  conclude  a  treaty  between  two  princes  con- 
nected by  their  immediate  interests.  But  the  captivity  of  the 
count,  who  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  enemy,  which  happened 
soon  after,  seemed  to  put  an  end  to  all  the  advantages  naturally 
to  be  expected  from  it.  The  affairs  of  Brittany,  were  however, 
unexpectedly  retrieved  by  Jane,  wife  of  Montfort.  Roused,  by 
the  captivity  of  her  husband,  from  those  domestic  cares  to  which 
she  had  hitherto  entirely  confined  herself,  she  boldly  undertook 
to  support  the  falling  fortunes  of  her  family.  When  she  received 
the  fatal  intelligence,  instead  of  giving  way  to  despair,  she 
instantly  assembled' the  inhabitants  of  Rennes,  where  she  then 
resided,  and  taking  her  infant  son  in  her  arms,  conjured  them 
to  extend  their  protection  to  the  last  male  heir  of  their  ancient 
sovereigns ;  expatiated  on  the  resources  to  be  derived  from 
England,  entreating  them  to  m.ake  one  daring  effort  against  a 
usurper,  who,  being  allied  to  France,  would  sacrifice  their 
ancient  liberty  as  the  price  of  assistance.  In  short,  she  har- 
rangued  them  in  a  strain  so  bold  and  so  pathetic,  that  it  spoke 
to  their  hearts,  and  inspired  them  vAih  a  portion  of  her  own 
enthusiastic  ardor;  they  resolved  to  defend  her  with  their  lives 
and  fortunes.  She  then  made  a  progress  through  all  the  other 
fortresses  of  the  duchy,  and  induced  them  to  adopt  similiar  mea 
sures;  visited  the  garrison,  and  provided  every  thing  necessary 
for  sustenance  and  defence ;  and  having  secured  the  whole  prov- 
ince from  surprise,  shut  herself  up  in  Hennebone,  expecting  the 
English  succors,  and  sent  her  son  over  to  England.  Charles 
of  Blois  opened  the  campaign,  expecting  soon  to  terminate  a 
war  merely  conducted  by  a  woman.  Rennes  soon  surrendered 
to  him.  He  next  proceeded  to  Hennebone,  where  the  brave 
countess  commanded  in  person.  The  garrison,  actuated  by  her 
presence,  made  a  vigorous  defence.  She  herself  performed 
prodigies  of  valor;  clad  in  complete  armor,  she  stood  foremost 
in  the  breach,  sustained  the  most  violent  assaults,  and  flying  with 
active  vigilance  from  post  to  rampart,  encouraged  her  troops,  and 
displayed  skill  that  would  have  done  honor  to  the  most  experi- 


344  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

enced  general.  Perceiving  one  day,  that  the  besiegers,  occupied 
in  a  general  attack,  had  left  their  camp  unguarded,  she  imme- 
diately sallied  forth  by  a  postern,  with  five  hundred  men,  set  fire 
to  their  tents,  baggage,  and  magazines,  and  created  so  universal 
an  alarm,  that  the  enemy  desisted  from  the  assault,  to  cut  off  her 
communication  with  the  town.  Finding  herself  intercepted,  she 
galloped  towards  Auray,  which  she  reached  in  safety.  Five 
days  after  she  returned  with  her  little  army,  cut  her  way  through 
part  of  the  camp,  and  entered  the  town  in  triumph. 

At  length,  however,  so  many  breaches  were  made  in  the  walls 
by  reiterated  assaults,  that  the  place  was  deemed  no  longer 
tenable,  and  the  bishop  of  Leon,  notwithstanding  the  prayers 
and  remonstrances  of  the  countess,  had  determined  to  capitulate ; 
he  was  actually  engaged  in  a  conference  respecting  it,  with 
Charles  of  Blois,  when  the  countess,  who  had  ascended  a  lofty 
tower,  and  was  casting  an  eager  look  toward  the  sea,  descried  a 
fleet  at  a  distance.  She  instantly  ran  into  the  streets,  and  ex- 
claimed in  a  transport  of  joy,  "  Succors,  succors,  the  English 
succors,  no  capitulation  !''  Nor  was  she  mistaken ;  the  English 
fleet  soon  after  entered  the  harbor,  and  the  troops  under  the 
command  of  Sir  Walter  Mauny,  sallied  from  the  city,  attacked 
the  camp  of  the  besiegers,  and  reduced  it  to  ashes.  On  Sir 
Walter's  return  from  this  successful  expedition,  says  Froissard, 
"  the  countess  went  forth  to  meet  him  with  a  joyful  countenance, 
and  kissed  him  and  his  companions  two  or  three  times,  like  a 
valiant  lady."  Edward  himself  afterwards  undertook  her  de- 
fence. The  count,  who  had  been  released  through  a  treaty 
between  England  and  Philip,  still  attempting  to  defend  his  right, 
was  slain,  and  Edward  undertook  the  cause  of  his  son.  After- 
wards, in  1346,  Charles  of  Blois  having  come  with  his  troops  to 
the  assistance  of  a  fortress  he  had  reduced,  she  attacked  him  in 
his  entrenchments  in  the  night,  dangerously  wounded,  and  took 
him  prisoner. 

Madame  de  maintenon,  a  most  extraordinary  lady,  who, 
from  a  humble  situation,  and  a  variety  of  misfortunes,  rose,  at 
last,  to  be  the  wife  of  Louis  XIV.,  was  descended  from  the  an- 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  345 

cient  family  of  D'Aubigny.  Her  grandfather  was  a  man  of 
considerable  rank,  and  highly  renowned  as  a  champion  for  the 
protestants,  and  as  he  perceived,  at  last,  that  there  was  no  safety 
for  him  in  his  own  country,  he  fled  to  Geneva,  where  he  died 
in  the  year  1630. 

The  son  of  this  D'Aubigny,  soon  after  the  death  of  his  first 
wife,  was,  in  December,  1626,  married  a  second  time,  lo  a  lady 
of  a  respectable  family,  with  whom  he  lived  only  a  few  weeks, 
when  he  was  cast  into  prison  in  Paris,  in  consequence  of  some 
heinous  accusation  against  him.  Madame  D'Aubigny  exerted 
her  utmost  influence  to  procure  his  enlargement ;  but  to  no  pur- 
pose. As,  however,  her  attachment  to  her  husband  increased 
in  proportion  as  he  became  more  miserable,  she  obtained  liberty 
to  shut  herself  up  in  prison  along  with  him,  where  she  had  two 
sons.  She,  at  length,  got  permission  from  court  to  have  her 
husband  removed  to  the  prison  of  Niort,  that  she  might  be  nearer 
the  assistance,  which  they  derived  from  their  relations. 

In  this  prison,  Madame  de  Maintenon  was  born,  November, 
27th,  1635 ;  from  which  miserable  situation,  however,  she  was 
taken  a  few  days  after  by  Madame  Villette,  her  aunt  by  the 
father's  side.  Soon  after  this,  she  obtained  her  husband's  release, 
upon  condition,  however,  that  he  should  embrace  the  catholic 
religion ;  but  no  sooner  was  D  Aubigny  at  liberty,  than  fearing 
some  fresh  troubles,  he  resolved  to  decamp  and  seek  his  fortune 
abroad.  Accordingly,  in  1639,  he  embarked  for  the  West  In- 
dies, with  his  wife  and  family,  and  settled  at  Martinico,  where 
he  acquired  considerable  plantations.  Madame  D'Aubigny, 
some  years  after,  returned  to  France,  with  a  view  to  recover  some 
debts,  in  which,  however,  she  did  not  succeed,  and  soon  went 
back  to  the  West  Indies,  where  she  had  the  mortification  to  find 
her  husband  completely  ruined,  by  gaming.  In  1646  D'Aubigny 
died,  when  his  lady,  with  her  small  family,  were  left  in  the  great- 
est distress.  She  returned  to  France,  and  her  daughter  soon 
after  was  taken  into  the  family  of  Madame  Villette,  who  received 
her  with  great  marks  of  affection,  informing  her  that  she  should 
be  heartily  welcome  to  reside  in  her  house  as  long  as  she  thought 
proper,  where,  at  least,  she  should  never  be  at  a  loss  for  a  sub- 


346  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

sistence.  The  niece  accepted  the  offer  with  gratitude,  and  in  a 
short  time  became  firmly  attached  to  the  protestant  religion ;  bat 
Madame  de  Nevillant,  a  relation  by  the  mother's  side,  having 
solicited  an  order,  which  was  granted,  from  the  court,  to  take 
her  out  of  the  hands  of  her  aunt,  and  to  have  her  instructed  in 
the  Romish  religion,  took  her  to  herself,  and  made  her  a  con- 
vert, which,  however,  was  not  effected,  without  many  threats,  and 
hardships  inflicted  on  her. 

With  a  view  to  rescue  herself  from  the  state  of  dependence 
to  which  she  found  herself  subjected,  she  was  obliged  to  marry 
that  famous  old  buffoon,  the  abbe  Scarron,  who  subsisted  himself 
only  on  a  pension  allowed  him  by  the  court,  for  his  wit  and  parts ; 
but  when  he  died,  she  found  herself  as  indigent  as  she  was  be- 
fore her  marriage.  Her  friends,  indeed,  endeavored  to  get  her 
pension  continued,  and  presented  so  many  petitions  to  the  king, 
about  it,  all  beginning  with  "  The  w^idow  Scarron,  most  humbly 
prays  your  majesty,  &c."  that  he  was  quite  weary  of  them,  and 
has  been  frequently  heard  to  exclaim,  "  Must  I  always  be  pestered 
with  the  widow  Scarron  ?" 

At  lastj'-however,  through  the  recommendation  of  Madame  de 
Montespan,  the  king  settled  a  much  larger  pension  on  her,  with 
a  genteel  apology  for  making  her  wait  so  long,  and  afterwards 
made  choice  of  her  to  take  care  of  the  young  duke  of  Maine. 
The  letters  she  wrote  on  this  occasion  charmed  the  king,  and 
were  the  origin  of  her  advancement ;  her  own  personal  merit 
effected  all  the  rest.  He  bought  her  the  lands  of  Maintenon, 
the  only  estate  she  ever  had ;  and,  finding  her  pleased  with  the 
acquisition,  called  her  publicly  "  Madame  de  Maintenon,"  which 
was  of  great  service  to  her  in  her  good  fortune,  by  releasing  her 
from  the  name  of  Scarron. 

In  the  mean  time,  her  elevation  was  to  her  only  a  retreat ; 
the  king  came  to  her  apartment  every  day  after  dinner,  before 
and  after  supper,  and  continued  there  till  midnight ;  here  he  did 
business  with  his  ministers,  while  Madame  de  Maintenon,  em- 
ployed in  reading,  or  needlework,  never  showed  any  desire  to 
talk  of  state  affairs,  and  carefully  avoided  all  appearances  of 
cabal  and  intrigue,  nor  did  she  ever  make  use  of  her  power,  to 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  347 

procure  dignities  or  employments  for  her  own  relations.  But 
the  same  natural  disposition,  which  prevented  her  from  soliciting 
benefits  for  her  friends,  made  her  also  incapable  of  doing  inju- 
ries. When  the  minister  Louvois  threw  himself  at  the  feet  of 
Louis  XIV.,  to  hinder  his  marriage  with  the  widow  Scarron,  she 
not  only  forgave  him,  but  frequently  pacified  the  king,  whom  the 
rough  temper  of  this  minister  as  frequently  incensed. 

About  the  latter  end  of  the  year  1685,  Louis  XIV.  married 
her,  he  being  then  in  his  forty-eighth,  she  in  her  fiftieth  year ; 
and  that  piety  with  which  she  inspired  the  king  to  make  her  a 
wife,  became  by  degrees  a  settled  disposition  of  mind.  She  pre- 
vailed on  Louis  to  found  a  religious  community  at  St.  Cyr,  for 
the  education  of  three  hundred  young  ladies  of  quality ;  and 
here  she  frequently  retired  from  that  melancholy,  of  which  she 
complains  so  pathetically  in  one  of  her  letters,  and  which  few 
ladies  will  suppose  she  should  be  liable  to  in  so  elevated  a  situa- 
tion. But,  as  Voltaire  says,  if  any  thing  could  show  the  vanity 
of  ambition,  it  would  certainly  be  this  letter.  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  could  have  no  other  uneasiness  than  the  uniformity  of  her 
living  with  a  great  king ;  and  this  made  her  once  say  to  the 
count  D'Aubigny  her  brother,  "  I  can  hold  it  no  longer,  I  wish 
I  was  dead."  Louis,  however,  died  before  her,  in  1715;  when 
she  retired  w^hoUy  to  St.  Cyr,  and  spent  the  rest  of  her  days  in 
acts  of  devotion ;  and,  what  is  most  surprising,  is,  that  her  hus- 
band left  no  certain  provision  for  her,  but  only  recommended  her 
to  the  duke  of  Orleans.  She  would  accept  no  more  than  a  pen- 
sion of  about  thirteen  thousand  dollars  per  annum,  which  was 
punctually  paid  her  till  her  death,  which  happened,  April  15th, 
1719.  A  collection  of  her  letters  has  been  published,  and  trans- 
lated into  English, 


Margaret,  daughter  of  Rene,  duke  of  Anjou,  and  king  of 
Sicily,  was  cousin-german  to  the  French  monarch,  and  was  a 
princess,  who,  to  the  charms  of  beauty,  united  superior  endow- 
ments of  mind.  Henry  VI.,  of  England,  desirous  of  giving 
peace  to  his  kingdom,  after  a  long  war,  proposed,  during  a  truce 
between   the   two  nations,  to  ally  himself,  by  marriage,  with 


348  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

France,  whence  he  was  himself  descended  on  the  maternal  side. 
With  this  view  he  demanded  Margaret ;  and  the  duke  of  Suf- 
folk, with  a  splendid  retinue,  passed  over  to  Nantz  to  solemnize 
the  nuptials,  and  to  escort  the  princess  to  England.  She  was 
received  by  the  monarch  with  affection  and  respect,  and  the 
nuptial  ceremony  was  repeated  at  the  monastery  of  Litchfield, 
after  which  the  queen  and  her  suite  proceeded  to  London. 

Humphrey,  duke  of  Gloucester,  who  was  at  the  helm  of 
government,  opposed  this  alliance  from  political  motives.  Three 
years  previous  to  his  nuptials,  Henry  had  been  contracted  to  the 
daughter  of  coant  d'Armagnac;  but  the  king,  influenced  by  the 
suggestions  of  Suffolk,  broke  his  engagements,  and  deserted  his 
affianced  bride. 

Margaret,  Avhose  temper  was  vindictive  and  lofty,  could  not 
forgive  the  opposition  of  the  duke's  vengeance,  added  to  a  thirst 
of  power,  determined  her  to  ruin  him  in  the  favor  of  the  king  ; 
to  drive  him  from  his  post,  and  assume  to  herself  the  reins  of 
government.  With  these  views  she  studied  the  character  of 
Henry.  She  perceived  his  weakness,  his  indolence,  his  love  of 
quiet,  his  aversion  to  business,  his  contempt  of  dignities,  and 
indifference  to  power,  qualities  of  which  she  resolved  to  avail 
herself  She  labored  to  render  the  duke  odious  in  the  eyes  of 
her  husband.  But  Henry,  who  had  long  been  accustomed  to 
lean  on  Gloucester  for  support,  resisted  the  purposes  of  Margaret, 
and  zealously  defended  the  duke.  The  queen,  not  easily  baffled, 
renewed  from  time  to  time  her  attacks,  gradually  prevailing  over 
the  flexible  nature  of  the  monarch.  In  less  than  a  year,  Glou- 
cester lost,  with  his  employments,  his  credit  at  court,  was 
arrested  in  parliament  by  the  high  constable  of  England,  and 
was  inhumanly  strangled  in  prison,  without  even  the  form  of 
justice. 

This  atrocious  action  was  generally  attributed  to  the  duke  of 
Suffolk,  who  was  odious  to  the  people.  He  was  at  first  impeached 
by  the  parliament,  and  sent  a  prisoner  to  the  tower,  and  after  a 
month's  confinement  liberated.  This  not  satisfying  the  populace, 
he  was  again  impeached,  and  banished  for  five  years.  On  his 
passage  to  France,  he  was  taken  by  a  ship  of  war,  beheaded  by 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  349 

order  of  the  captain,  and  cast  on  the  sands  at  Dover,  whence  his 
remains  were  conveyed  to  London,  and  exposed  to  the  people,  to 
satisfy  their  rage.  These  disorders  originated  in  the  ambition 
of  the  queen :  her  eagerness  to  grasp  the  administration  of  affairs 
had  involved  the  fate  of  Gloucester,  while  Suffolk,  devoted  to  her 
service,  had  paid  with  his  life,  the  forfeit  of  his  crimes.  Amidst 
the  tempest  which  shook  the  kingdom,  Margaret  presided  at  the 
helm  with  firmness.  Edward,  duke  of  Somerset,  was  appointed  by 
her  prime  minister ;  while  the  princes  of  the  blood  were  neglect- 
ed. The  factions  of  York  and  Lancaster  divided  the  nation, 
while  Henry  held  his  crown  by  a  doubtful  and  precarious  tenure. 

Richard,  duke  of  York,  took  up  arms  under  pretence  of  pub- 
lic good.  His  cause  was  espoused  by  the  common  people  of 
Kent,  whose  leader  was  the  celebrated  Jack  Cade.  After  some 
skirmishing.  Cade  was  killed,  and  the  people  dispersed.  York, 
however,  strengthened  his  party,  marched  towards  the  capital, 
and  gave  battle  to  the  king's  troops.  He  was  victorious,  while 
the  king's  troops  were  defeated  with  a  dreadful  slaughter.  The 
duke  of  Somerset  being  slain,  York  went  over  to  the  king,  and 
in  the  midst  of  his  vanquished  troops,  laid  at  his  feet  the 
trophies  he  had  gained,  while  he  declared  that  the  death  of  the 
minister  was  the  life  of  the  people.  Having  thus  said,  he  con- 
ducted Henry  to  London,  accompanied  by  both  armies.  He, 
however,  left  to  the  monarch  but  the  shadow  of  sovereignty ;  the 
semblance  of  which  he  assumed  to  himself,  while  parliament 
declared  him  protector  of  the  kingdom. 

Margaret  communicated  these  proceedings  to  the  king,  whom 
she  pressed  to  retrench  the  authority  of  his  rival.  She  was  aware 
of  the  insecurity  of  Henry,  and  plotted  the  destruction  of  the 
duke.  York  and  his  party,  having  been  secretly  informed  of  a 
plot  against  him,  again  made  war.  Margaret  governed  the  camp, 
and  a  battle  was  fought.  Ten  thousand  men  fell  in  the  field, 
and  the  king  was  taken  prisoner,  and  conducted  to  London. 

Warm   disputes  ensued   in   parliament.     It   was   at   length 

enacted,  that  Henry,  during  life,  should  be  king ;  that  the  crown 

should  descend  to  York ;  and  that  the  prince  of  Wales,  and  his 

posterity,  were  to  be  wholly  excluded  from  the  succession. 

30 


350  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

Margaret,  incensed  at  these  proceedings,  publicly  declared 
her  resolution  to  avenge  the  cause  of  her  son,  and  to  rescue  her 
husband  from  captivity.  She  collected  ten  thousand  men,  com- 
manded her  forces  in  person,  drew  them  up  in  order  of  battle, 
and  animated  them  by  a  speech  full  of  courage  and  fire.  She 
rode  through  the  battalions,  and  exhorted  the  troops  to  bravery 
and  firmness.  The  Yorkists,  surrounded  on  all  sides,  gave  way, 
and  the  duke  fell  in  the  field,  his  cavalry  was  routed,  and  his 
infantry  cut  in  pieces.  She  then  marched  to  London,  and  de- 
livered her  husband  from  captivity.  The  enemy  rallied  his 
scattered  troops  under  Edward,  earl  of  Marche,  and  in  the  fields 
of  Towton  a  battle  was  fought,  which  lasted  for  ten  hours,  when 
the  king's  party  gave  way.  The  king  and  queen  escaped,  and 
found  protection  in  Scotland,  from  James  II. 

Margaret  passed  over  to  France,  with  Edward,  her  son. 
Thence  she  proceeded  to  Anjou,  to  Rene,  her  father.  By  Louis 
XL  she  was  furnished  with  two  thousand  men ;  with  these  and 
her  son  she  returned  to  Scotland.  She  was  again  unsuccessful, 
and  with  her  son  embarked,  and  landed  at  Huys,  in  Flanders. 
Thence  she  went  to  Bruges,  and  to  Lisle  and  Bethune,  where 
Philip,  duke  of  Burgundy,  assisted  her  with  a  large  sum  of 
money  and  a  convoy,  with  which  she  proceeded  to  the  duchy  of 
Bar,  belonging  to  her  brother,  the  duke  of  Calabria, 

Henry,  in  the  mean  time  was  seized,  and  carried  to  London, 
where  he  was,  by  order  of  Edward,  imprisoned  in  the  tower. 
Margaret,  distressed  but  not  discouraged  by  the  fate  of  the  king, 
redoubled  her  efTorts  at  the  court  of  France.  Warwick  having 
espoused  the  cause  of  Henry,  went  over  to  France,  had  an  inter- 
view with  the  queen,  and  the  king  of  France  fitted  out  a  fleet 
to  assist  the  queen's  cause.  He  landed  at  Dartmouth,  proclaimed 
as  he  marched  the  name  of  Henry,  and  Edward  fled  to  Holland. 
On  his  arrival  at  London  he  released  Henry,  and  replaced  him 
on  the  throne.  Margaret  was  overwhelmed  with  joy,  after  ten 
years  imprisonment  her  husband  was  restored  to  freedom,  and 
royality,  while  the  cloud  which  overwhelmed  the  destiny  of  her 
son,  seemed  rapidly  dispersing.  She  landed  in  England,  fought 
a  long  and  bloody  battle,  and  was  defeated.     She  was  pressed 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  351 

once  more  to  hazard  a  battle,  when  she  was  completely  over- 
powered, and  she  and  her  son  made  prisoners.  The  dukes  of 
Gloucester  and  Clarence,  and  Lord  Hastings,  inhumanly  butch- 
ered the  young  prince.  Margaret  was  conveyed  to  London,  and 
that  very  night,  Henry,  her  husband,  was  stabbed  in  the  tower, 
by  the  ferocious  Gloucester.  Rene,  her  father,  gave  to  Louis  of 
France  the  succession  of  Provence,  for  the  liberation  of  his 
daughter.  Louis  paid  to  England  for  her  ramson,  fifty  thousand 
crowns  of  gold.  She  also,  when  she  was  delivered  up,  renounced 
every  claim  to  which  she  might  conceive  herself  entitled,  by  her 
marriage  with  Henry. 

Thus  divested  of  power  and  possessions,  and  hopeless  of  any 
reverse  of  fortune,  she  retired  to  Anjou,  to  pass  the  remainder 
of  a  disastrous  life.  She  expired,  a  victim  to  sorrow,  in  the 
parish  of  Dampierre,  near  Saumer,  in  1482,  and  was  entombed 
without  any  particular  memorial.  On  the  feast  of  All-Saints, 
the  chapter  of  St.  Maurice,  made  annually,  after  vespers  of  the 
dead,  a  semi-circular  procession  about  her  tomb,  singing  a  sub- 
venite  to  the  manes  of  the  unfortunate  Margaret. 


Hannah  More.  While  we  were  gathering  up  materials  for 
this  volume,  the  English  press  announced  the  death  of  this  ex- 
traordinary woman.  She  had  reached,  we  knew,  the  confines 
of  another  w^orld,  and  was  hourly  waiting  for  a  change ;  but, 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  there  has  as  yet,  been  only  a  few  slight 
sketches  of  her  character  given  to  the  public.  The  one  which 
we  insert  in  this  brief  notice  of  her,  seems  to  contain  more  facts 
than  any  other  we  have  seen.  A  later  paper  has  enumerated 
her  charitable  bequests,  which  are  so  judiciously  made  as  to 
form  the  coronal  to  her  fame.  We  were  apprised  that  there  had 
been  no  great  variety  in  her  life,  but  it  had  been  long,  and  could 
not  be  destitute  of  incident,  as  several  generations  have  passed 
away  since  she  began  to  write.  She  had  been  contemporary 
with  Burke,  Johnson,  Darwin,  and  others  of  great  literary  dis- 
tinction, over  whom  the  grave  has  long  since  closed,  while  she 
has  been  permitted  to  live  on  to  benefit  mankind.  Another,  and 
another  race  had  sprung  up,  who  panted  to  do  good,  and  she 


352  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

labored  with  them.  Romily,  and  Wilbeforce,  were  among  her 
friends  in  this  century,  as  the  great  men  we  have  named,  were 
in  the  last.  For  many  years  she  was  devoted  to  the  cause  of 
education,  herself  a  teacher,  of  unrivalled  success.  Hundreds 
of  the  most  dintinguished  females  have  been  educated  by  her 
and  her  sisters.  But,  it  was  not  in  her  school  alone,  that  she 
has  done  good ;  it  is  in  her  writings  that  we  find  her  power. 
It  is  now  more  than  half  a  century  since  she  first  appeared  as  a 
writer,  and  every  line  she  has  given  the  world  had  its  efiects 
upon,  at  least,  two  nations.  She  has  been  known  on  this  side 
of  the  water,  as  well  as  on  the  other ;  and  our  mothers  were 
aided  by  her  in  teaching  us  in  our  infancy.  We  have  felt  the 
effect  of  her  writings  ever  since  we  began  to  reason ;  in  the  nur- 
sery, in  the  school  room,  and  even  in  college  halls. 

In  our  youthful  days  we  took  parts  in  her  "  Sacred  Dramas," 
and  the  speeches  of  David  and  Araspes  are  now  as  familiar  to 
us  "  as  household  words."  Even  our  strict  and  wary  parents, 
who,  bless  their  shades  for  their  affectionate  solicitude  for  us, 
and  who  are  no  more,  having  gone  the  way  of  all  the  earth, 
suffered  us  to  read  the  works  of  Hannah  More,  on  the  holy 
sabbath,  when  almost  every  thing  but  the  bible  was  forbidden. 
It  was  indeed  "  a  Daniel  come  to  judgment,"  when  we  could 
get  her  works  into  our  hands,  and  would  hold  on  to  them,  until 
the  toll  of  the  bell  that  "knolled  to  church,"  was  dying  on  our 
ear,  and  we  feared  a  severe  maternal  look  if  we  were  not  in  our 
places  before  the  man  of  God  had  stretched  his  hands  in  prayer. 
Her  looks,  her  cottage,  her  air  and  manner  were  all  enquired 
after  by  every  youth  who  read  her  works,  and  for  ourselves,  we 
can  recollect,  that  a  favorite,  pious,  kind,  and  affectionate  maiden 
friend  of  our  childhood,  was  in  the  exuberance  of  our  admira- 
tion and  gratitude,  compared  in  some  infant  attempts  at  verse,  to 
Hannah  More ;  we  could  go  no  higher. 

Her  works  were  printed  in  this  country  until  every  house 
was  furnished  with  a  portion  of  them.  Six  years  since  they 
were  collected  and  printed  at  Hartford,  in  Connecticut,  with  a 
preface  from  Mrs.  Sigourney,  who  speaks  of  the  prophetess  of 
"Barley  Wood"  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  kindred  genius. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  353 

Hannah  More  was  born  about  the  year  1745,  or  1746.  She 
Avas  the  youngest  of  five  daughters  of  a  clergyman,  who  resided 
at  Hanham,  near  Bristol.  In  early  youth,  all  her  leisure  hours 
are  described  as  having  been  devoted  to  reading.  The  scanty 
library  of  her  father  having  been  soon  exhausted,  she  borrowed 
from  her  village  friends ;  and  it  is  said  that,  amongst  the  first 
books  which  thus  fell  into  her  hands  was  Richardson's  "  Pa- 
mela" ;  a  work  that  has  made  a  fool,  or  worse,  of  many  a  girl. 
On  Hannah  More  it  seems  to  have  produced  no  such  effect. 

Her  sisters  had  for  some  time  conducted  a  small  school,  in 
which  they  acquitted  themselves  with  so  much  propriety,  that 
their  reputation  increased,  and  they  were  enabled  to  venture  on 
forming  a  larger  establishment,  and  taking  pupils  of  a  higher 
class  than  they  had  hitherto  been  accustomed  to  educate.  Pa- 
tronized by  several  ladies  of  fortune  and  discernment,  they,  about 
the  year  1765,  removed  to  Bristol,  and  opened  a  boarding-school 
in  Park  street.  It  soon  became  one  of  the  most  celebrated  semi- 
naries in  the  west  of  England. 

Hannah  More  accompanied  her  sisters  in  their  removal.  She 
soon  attracted  the  notice,  and  acquired  the  friendship,  of  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Stonehouse,  their  next  door  neighbor ;  and  that  gen- 
tleman not  only  encouraged  her  to  write,  but  is  understood  to 
have  corrected  all  her  early  effusions.  Her  first  publication, 
which  appeared  in  1770,  or  1772,  was  "  The  Search  after  Hap- 
piness, a  Pastoral  Drama."  The  reception  which  it  experienced 
was  so  favorable,  that  she  was  encouraged  to  print,  in  1774,  her 
"  Sir  Eldred  of  the  Bower,"  "  The  Bleeding  Rock,"  and  a  tra- 
gedy, entitled  "  The  Inflexible  Captive,"  founded  on  the  story  of 
Regulus. 

Through  the  kindness  of  Dr.  Stonehouse,  Hannah  More  Avas 

introduced  to  Garrick,  who  advised  her  to  write  for  the  stage ; 

for  which,  indeed,  she  seems  to  have  had  a  strong  predilection. 

One  of  the  early  fruits  of  her  acquaintance  with  the  manager, 

was,  "  An  Ode  to  Dragon,  Mr.  Garrick's  House  Dog."     This 

appeared  in  1777  ;  as  did  also  a  volume  of  "  Essays  on  several 

Subjects,  designed  for  Young  Ladies." 

In   1778,  her  tragedy  of  "  Percy"  was  performed.     It  was 

30* 


354  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

well  received ;  and  for  a  time,  it  seems  to  have  established  her 
fame  as  a  dramatic  writer.  To  write  a  moderately  successful 
tragedy  was  a  task  of  less  difficulty  in  those  days  than  it  is  now. 
In  the  following  year  she  ^'oduced  another  tragedy,  "  Fatal 
Falsehood." 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  Miss  More's  thoughts  took 
a  more  serious  turn;  and,  in  1782,  she  published  "  Sacred  Dra- 
mas," and  "Simplicity,  a  Poetical  Epistle."  Some  of  the  dramas 
had  previously  been  acted  by  the  pupils  of  Miss  More's  school. 
The  stage,  however,  having  become  an  abomination  in  her  eyes, 
she  subsequently  availed  herself  of  an  opportunity  to  declare, 
that  she  did  not  think  it,  in  its  present  state,  deserving  the  coun- 
tenance of  a  Christian.  She  accordingly  renounced  all  dramatic 
attempts,  except  as  poems. 

Many  years  since,  Hannah  More,  and  her  sisters,  retired,  with 
an  easy  fortune,  to  Mendip,  in  Somersetshire.  There,  by  the 
establishment  of  charity  schools,  they  effected  a  great  alteration 
and  improvement  in  the  manners  and  morals  of  the  colliers. 

She  observed,  and  thought,  and  wrote  much ;  she  was  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  Dr.  Porteus,  Dr.  Beattie,  Mrs.  Mon- 
tague, Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  Dr.  Johnson,  Burke,  Wilberforce, 
and  many  other  celebrated  individuals  of  both  sexes;  she  had 
many  curious  adventures  in  her  time;  and  her  "Confessions" — 
her  full,  honest,  faithful  "  Confessions" — if  less  piquant  and 
touching  than  those  of  Rosseau,  Avould  be  found  to  possess  an 
abundant  portion  of  interest. 

Continuing  to  favor  the  world  with  her  literary  productions. 
Miss  More,  in  1785,  wrote  a  "  Biographical  Preface  to  the  Po- 
ems of  Anne  Yearsley,  a  Milkwoman."  Circumstances  which 
arose  out  of  her  connection  with  this  Anne  Yearsley,  poetically 
designated  "  Lactilla,"  excited  much  notice  and  animadversion. 
The  patroness  and  her  protegee  quarrelled ;  the  latter  was  ac- 
cused of  ingratitude;  and,  she,  in  her  turn,  told  a  strange  story 
about  the  disappearance  of  a  volume  of  her  manuscripts,  which 
had  been  left  with  Miss  More.  The  difference,  we  believe,  was 
never  satisfactorily  settled. 

In  1786,  she  published  "  Florio,  a  Tale,"  and  the  "  Bas  Bleu, 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  355 

a  Conversation,  two  Poems."  Her  "  Thoughts  on  the  Manners 
of  the  Great,"  appeared  the  same  year,  anon3'mously.  For  some 
time  it  was  assigned  to  Mr.  Wilbeforce,  Dr.  Porteus,  and  others. 
This  was  soon  followed  by  her  "  Estimate  of  the  Religion*  of 
the  Fashionable  World,"  which  excited  much  attention  ;  "  Vil- 
lage Politics,"  and  "  Remarks  on  the  Speech  of  Monsieur  Dc- 
pont,  on  Religious  Education,"  in  1793  ;  and  "Strictures  on  the 
Modern  System  of  Female  Education,"  in  two  volumes  octavo, 
in  1799. 

It  is  said,  that,  when  the  education  of  the  late  princess  Char- 
lotte, became  a  consideration  of  national  importance,  Miss  More 
was  consulted  on  the  subject  by  the  queen,  (Charlotte) ;  and, 
that,  in  consequence,  she,  in  1808,  produced,  in  two  volumes, 
"  Hints  towards  forming  the  Character  of  a  Young  Princess." 
This  work  was  honored  with  the  royal  approbation,  and  that  of 
a  large  portion  of  the  public. 

Though  confined  to  her  bed  by  an  excruciating  disease,  she 
continued  to  write,  and  in  that  state  produced  some  of  her  most 
popular  works :  amongst  others,  "  Ccelebs  in  search  of  a  Wife," 
which  appeared  in  1809,  and  which,  if  we  may  confide  in  the 
veracity  of  title-pages,  ran  through  ten  editions  in  the  course  of 
a  twelvemonth. 

Her  "  Practical  Piety,"  in  two  volumes,  was  published  in 
1811  ;  her  "Christian  Morals,"  in  two  volumes,  in  1812;  her 
"  Essay  on  the  Character  and  Writings  of  St.  Paul,"  in  two  vol- 
umes, in  1815;  and  her  "Moral  Sketches  of  prevailing  Opinions 
and  Manners,"  in  1819.  Her  miscellaneous  works  have  been 
collected  in  eight  volumes.  Many  of  her  short  pieces,  however, 
have  not  been  preserved  in  that  collection. 

By  that  portion  of  the  church  of  England,  denominated  evan- 
gelical. Miss  More  was  long  regarded  as  an  eminent  and  distin- 
guished character.  For  several  years,  her  health  had  been  in 
a  feeble  and  declining  state ;  and,  after  a  painful,  and  protracted 
illness,  accompanied,  at  times,  by  feverish  delirium,  she  expired 
^  on  Sunday,  the  seventh  of  September,  1833,  at  her  residence, 
Windsor  terrace,  Clifton. 

It  has  been  said  that  an  author  is  better  known  by  the  pre- 


356  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

face  to  his  works,  than  from  the  works  themselves,  for  in  that 
he  necessarily  talks  about  himself,  and  gives  some  analysis  of 
his  own  mind,  and  habits  of  reasoning.  In  the  following  intro- 
duction, which  she  made  for  an  edition  of  her  works,  Miss  More 
has  spoken  of  herself  and  of  her  writings,  and  probably  more 
of  her  true  character  can  be  drawn  from  it,  than  from  the  most 
elaborate  biography  from  another  hand.  The  maxims  that 
guide  are  sound,  and  there  is  a  moral  and  mental  energy  in  her 
acquirements  in  favor  of  them,  that  should  be  held  in  admiration 
by  every  independent  female  mind. 

"Whatever  objections  may  be  urged  against  the  literary  cha 
racter  of  the  present  day,  it  must,  however,  be  allowed  to  exhibit 
an  evident  improvement  in  some  material  points.  It  is,  for  in- 
stance, no  new  observation,  that  vanity  and  flattery  are  now  less 
generally  ostensible,  even  in  the  most  indifferent  authors,  than 
they  were  formerly  in  some  of  the  best.  The  most  self-sufficient 
writer  is  at  length  driven,  by  the  prevailing  sense  of  propriety 
to  be  contented  with  thinking  himself  the  prime  genius  of  the 
age;  but  he  seldom  ventures  to  tell  you  that  he  thinks  so. 
Vanity  is  compelled  to  acquire  or  to  assume  a  better  taste. 

"  That  spirit  of  independence  also,  which  has  in  many  respects 
impressed  so  mischievous  a  stamp  on  the  public  character,  has, 
perhaps,  helped  to  correct  the  style  of  prefaces  and  dedications. 
Literary  patronage  is  so  much  shorn  of  its  beams,  that  it  can 
no  longer  enlighten  bodies  which  are  in  themselves  opake  ;  so 
much  abridged  of  its  power  that  it  cannot  force  into  notice  a 
work  which  is  not  able  to  recommend  itself  The  favor  of  an 
individual  no  longer  boasts  that  buoyant  quality  which  enables 
that  to  swim  which,  by  its  own  nature,  is  disposed  to  sink.  The 
influence  of  an  Augustus,  or  a  Louis  Q,uatorze,  of  a  Majcenas, 
a  Dorset,  or  a  Halifax,  could  not  now  procure  readers,  much  less 
could  it  compel  admires  for  the  panegyrist,  if  the  panegyrist, 
himself,  could  command  admiration  on  no  better  ground  than 
the  authority  of  the  patron.  The  once  dilated  preface  is  shrunk 
into  plain  apology  or  simple  exposition.  The  long  and  lofty 
dedication,  generally  speaking,  dwindled  into  a  sober  expres- 
sion of  respect  for  public  virtue,  a  concise  tribute  of  affection  to 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  357 

private  friendship,  or  an  acknowledgment  for  personal  obliga- 
tion. It  is  no  longer  necessary  for  the  dependant  to  be  profane 
in  order  to  be  grateful.  No  more  are  all  the  divine  attributes 
snatched  from  their  rightful  possessor,  and  impiously  appropri- 
ated by  the  needy  writer  to  the  opulent  patron.  He  still  makes 
indeed  the  eulogium  of  his  protector,  but  not  his  apotheosis. 
The  vainest  poet  of  our  days  dare  not  venture,  like  him  who 
has  however  so  gloriously  accomplished  his  own  prediction,  to 
say,  in  so  many  words,  that  his  own  work  is  more  sublime  than 
the  royal  heights  of  pyramids.  Nor  whatever  secret  com- 
pact he  may  make  for  his  duration,  does  he  openly  undertake  to 
promise  for  his  verse,  that  it  shall  flow  coequal  with  the  rivers, 
and  survive  the  established  forms  of  the  religion  of  his 
country.  The  most  venal  poetic  parasite  no  longer  eissures  his 
protector,  with  '  unhappy  Dryden,'  that  mankind  can  no  more 
subsist  without  his  poetry,  (the  earl  of  Middlesex's  poetry !)  than 
the  world  can  subsist  without  the  daily  course  of  Divine  Provi- 
dence. And  it  is  but  justice  to  the  more  sober  spirit  of  living 
literature,  to  observe,  that  our  modesty  would  revolt  (putting  our 
sense  and  our  religion  out  of  the  question)  were  a  modern  poet 
to  offer  even  an  imperial  patron  to  pick  and  choose  his  lodging 
among  the  constellations ;  or,  as  some  author  has  expressed  it 
on  a  similar  occasion,  '  to  ask  what  apartment  of  the  zodiac  he 
would  be  pleased  to  occupy.' 

"  So  far  at  least  our  taste  is  reformed.  And  may  we  not  venture 
to  hope,  from  the  affinity  which  should  subsist  between  correct 
judgment  and  unadulterated  principle,  that  our  ideas  of  truth 
and  manly  integrity  are  improved  also  ? 

"  But  it  is  time  that  I  confine  myself  to  the  more  immediate 
objects  of  the  present  address,  in  which,  in  avoiding  the  exploded 
evil  I  have  been  reprobating,  I  would  not  effectually  run  into  the 
opposite,  and  perhaps  prevailing  extreme. 

"  It  may  not,  it  is  pre.sumed  be  thought  necessary  to  apologize 
for  the  publication  of  this  collection,  by  enumerating  all  the  rea- 
sons which  produced  it.  '  Desire  of  friends,'  is  now  become  a 
proverbial  satire ;  the  poet  is  driven  from  that  once  creditable 
refuge,  behind  which  an  unfounded  eagerness  to  appear  in  print 


358  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

used  to  shelter  itself;  and  is  obliged  to  abandon  the  untenable 
forts  and  fastnesses  of  this  last  citadel  of  affectation.  Dr.  John- 
son's sarcasm  upon  one  plea  will  apply  to  all,  and  put  to  flight 
the  whole  hackneyed  train  of  false  excuses — •  If  the  book  were 
not  written  to  be  printed,  I  presume  it  was  printed  to  be  read.' 

"  These  scattered  pieces,  besides  that  they  had  been  suffered  to 
pass  through  successive  editions,  with  little  or  no  correction, 
were  in  their  original  appearance,  of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  and 
utterly  unreducible  to  any  companionable  form.  Several  new 
pieces  are  here  added,  and  most  of  the  old  ones  considerably 
altered  and  enlarged.  The  second  volume  is  preceded  by  its 
apology.  The  '  Essays'  are  omitted,  as  being  a  very  juvenile 
production,  and  because  the  subjects  of  a  few  of  them  were  analo- 
gous to  some  which  have  been  taken  up  on  higher  ground,  and 
treated  more  in  detail  in  the  '  Strictures  on  Female  Education.' 
If  it  should  be  questioned  whether  the  tales  which  occupy  the 
third  volume  ought  to  have  made  a  part  of  this  collection,  I  can 
only  answer,  that  though  in  their  original  appearance  it  was  found 
expedient  to  adopt  a  more  than  usually  familiar  manner,  and 
colloquial  style ;  yet  in  all  that  relates  to  sentiment  and  principle, 
and  the  ends  of  general  utility,  I  am  not  conscious  of  having, 
on  any  occasion,  taken  more  pains.  They  are  here  given  in  an 
enlarged  and  improved  form. 

"  I  should  blush  to  produce  so  many  slight  productions  of  my 
early  youth,  did  I  not  find  reason  to  be  still  more  ashamed,  that 
after  a  period  of  so  many  years  the  progress  will  be  found  to 
have  been  so  inconsiderable,  and  the  difference  so  little  apparent. 

"  If  I  should  presume  to  suggest,  as  an  apology  for  having  still 
persisted  to  publish,  that  of  the  latter  productions,  usefulness  has 
been  more  invariably  the  object;  whereas,  in  many  of  the  ear- 
lier, amusement  was  more  obviously  proposed ;  if  I  were  in- 
clined to  palliate  my  presumption  by  pleading 

'That  not  in  Fancy's  maze  I  wandered  long;' 

it  might  be  retorted  that  the  implied  plea,  in  favor  of  the  latter 
publications,  exhibits  no  surer  proof  of  humility  in  this  instance 
than  in  the  other.     That,  if  in  the  first  it  was  no  evidence  of  the 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  359 

modesty  of  the  writer  to  fancy  she  could  amuse,  in  the  last  it  fur- 
nishes little  proof  of  the  modesty  of  the  woman  to  fancy  that  she 
can  instruct.  Now  to  amuse,  or  to  instruct,  or  both,  is  so  undeni- 
ably the  intention  of  all  who  obtrude  their  works  on  the  public, 
that  no  preliminary  apology,  no  prefatory  humiliation  can  quite  do 
away  the  charge  of  a  certain  consciousness  of  talents  which  is  im- 
plied in  the  very  undertaking.  The  author  profes-ses  his  inability, 
but  he  produces  his  book;  and  by  the  publication  itself  controverts 
his  own  avowal  of  alledged  incapacity.  It  is  to  little  purpose 
that  the  words  are  disparaging  while  the  deed  is  assuming. 
Nor  will  that  profession  of  self-abasement  be  much  regarded, 
which  is  contradicted  by  an  act  that  supposes  self-confidence. 

"  If,  however,  there  is  too  seldom  found  in  the  writer  of  the 
book,  the  humility  which  the  preface  announces,  he  may  be  al- 
lowed to  plead  on  humility,  which  is  at  least  comparative.  On 
this  ground  may  I  be  permitted  to  declare,  that  at  no  period  of 
my  life  did  I  ever  feel  such  unfeigned  diffidence  at  the  individual 
appearance  of  even  the  slightest  pamphlet,  (the  slenderness  of 
whose  dimensions  might  carry  some  excuse  for  the  small  pro- 
portion of  profit  or  pleasure  it  conveyed,)  as  I  now  feel  at  send- 
ing this,  perhaps,  too  voluminous  collection  into  the  world. 
This  self-distrust  may  naturally  be  accounted  for,  by  reflecting 
that  this  publication  is  deliberately  made,  not  only  at  a  time  of 
life  when  I  ought  best  to  know  my  own  fauhs,  and  the  fauhs  of 
my  writings ;  but  is  made  also  at  such  a  distance  from  the  mo- 
ment in  w^hich  the  several  pieces  were  first  struck  out,  that  the 
raind  has  had  time  to  cool  from  the  hurry  and  heat  of  compo- 
sition;  the  judgment  has  had  leisure  to  operate,  and  it  is  the 
effect  of  that  operation  to  rectify  false  notions  and  to  correct  rash 
conclusions.  The  critic,  even  of  his  own  works,  grows  honest, 
if  not  acute,  at  the  end  of  twenty  years.  The  image,  which  he 
had  fancied  glowed  so  brightly  when  it  came  fresh  from  the  fur- 
nace, time  has  quenched ;  the  spirits  which  he  thought  fixed  and 
3ssential,  have  evaporated ;  many  of  the  ideas  which  he  imposed, 
fiot  only  on  his  reader,  but  on  himself,  for  originals,  more  read- 
ing and  more  observation  compel  him  to  restore  to  their  owners. 
And  having  detected,  from  the  perusal  of  abler  works,  either 


360  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

plagiarisms  in  his  own,  of  which  he  was  not  aware,  or  coinci- 
dences which  will  pass  for  plagiarisms ;  and  blending  with  the 
new  judgment  of  the  critic,  the  old  indignation  of  the  poet,  who 
of  us  in  this  case  is  not  angry  with  those  who  have  said  our 
good  things  before  us  ?  We  not  only  discover  that  what  we 
thouo^ht  we  had  invented  we  have  only  remembered ;  but  we 
find  also  that  what  we  had  believed  to  be  perfect  is  full  of  defects; 
in  that  which  we  had  conceived  to  be  pure  gold,  we  discover 
much  tinsel.  For  the  revision,  as  w^as  observed  above,  is  made 
at  a  period  when  the  eye  is  brought,  by  a  due  remoteness,  into 
that  just  position  which  gives  a  clear  and  distinct  view  of  things; 
a  remoteness  which  disperses  '  the  illusions  of  vision,'  scatters 
the  mists  of  vanity,  reduces  objects  to  their  natural  size,  restores 
them  to  their  exact  shape,  makes  them  appear  to  the  sight  such 
as  they  are  in  themselves,  and  such  as  perhaps  they  have  long 
appeared  to  all  except  the  author. 

"  That  I  have  added  to  the  mass  of  general  knowledge  by  one 
original  idea,  or  to  the  stock  of  virtue  by  one  original  sentiment, 
I  do  not  presume  to  hope.  But  that  I  have  labored  assiduously, 
to  make  that  kind  of  knowledge,  which  is  most  indispensable  to 
common  life,  familiar  to  the  unlearned,  and  acceptable  to  the 
young ;  that  I  have  labored  to  inculcate  into  both,  the  love  and 
practice  of  that  virtue  of  which  they  had  before  derived  the  prin- 
ciples from  higher  sources,  I  will  not  deny  to  have  attempted. 

"  To  what  is  called  learning  I  have  never  had  any  pretension. 
Life  and  manners  have  been  the  objects  of  my  unwearied  obser- 
vation, and  every  kind  of  study  and  habit  has  more  or  less 
recommended  itself  to  my  mind,  as  it  has  had  more  or  less  refer- 
ence to  these  objects.  Considering  this  w^orld  as  a  scene  of 
much  action,  and  of  little  comparative  knowledge;  not  as  a 
stage  for  exhibition,  or  a  retreat  for  speculation,  but  as  a  field  on 
which  the  business  which  is  to  determine  the  concerns  of  eter- 
nity is  to  be  transacted ;  as  a  place  of  low  regard  as  an  end,  but 
unspeakable  importance  as  a  means ;  a  scene  of  short  experi- 
ment, but  lasting  responsibility ;  I  have  been  contented  to  pursue 
myself,  and  to  present  to  others,  (to  my  own  sex  chiefly,)  those 
truths,  which,  if  obvious  and  familiar,  are  yet  practical,  and  of 


FEMAXE    BIOGRAPHY.  361 

general  application ;  things,  which  if  of  little  show,  are  yet  of 
some  use ;  and  which,  if  their  separate  value  be  not  great,  yet 
their  aggregate  importance  is  not  inconsiderable.  I  have  pur- 
sued, not  that  which  demands  skill,  and  ensures  renown,  but 

'That  which  before  us  Hes  in  daily  life.' 

"  If  I  have  been  favored  with  a  measure  of  success,  which  has 
as  much  exceeded  my  expectation  as  my  desert,  I  ascribe  it  partly 
to  a  disposition  in  the  public  mind  to  encourage,  in  these  days 
of  alarm,  attack,  and  agitation,  any  productions  of  which  the 
tendency  is  favorable  to  good  order  and  Christian  morals,  even 
though  the  merit  of  the  execution  by  no  means  keeps  pace  with 
that  of  the  principle.  In  some  instances  I  trust  I  have  written 
seasonably  when  I  have  not  been  able  to  write  well.  Several 
pieces  perhaps,  of  small  value  in  themselves,  have  helped  to  sup- 
ply, in  some  inferior  degree  the  exigence  of  the  moment ;  and 
have  had  the  advantage,  not  of  superseding  the  necessity,  or  the 
appearance,  of  abler  writings,  but  of  exciting  abler  writers ;  who, 
seeing  how  little  I  had  been  able  to  say  on  topics  upon  which 
much  might  be  said,  have  more  than  supplied  my  deficiencies 
by  filling  up  what  I  had  only  superficially  sketched  out.  On 
that  which  had  only  a  temporary  use,  I  do  not  aspire  to  build  a 
lasting  reputation. 

"  In  the  progress  of  ages,  and  after  the  gradual  accumulation 
of  literary  productions,  the  human  mind — I  speak  not  of  the 
scholar,  or  the  philosopher,  but  of  the  multitude — the  human 
mind,  Athenian  in  this  one  propensity,  the  desire  to  hear  and 
to  tell  some  new  thing,  will  reject,  or  overlook,  or  grow  weary 
even  of  the  standard  w^orks  of  the  most  established  authors :  while 
it  will  peruse  with  interest  the  current  volume  or  popular  pam- 
phlet of  the  day.  This  hunger  after  novelty,  by  the  way,  is  an 
instrument  of  inconceivable  importance,  placed  by  Providence  in 
the  hands  of  every  waiter ;  and  should  strike  him  forcibly  with 
the  duty  of  turning  this  sharp  appetite  to  good  account,  by  ap- 
peasing it  with  sound  and  wholesome  aliment.  It  is  not  perhaps, 
that  the  work  in  actual  circulation  is  comparable  to  many  works 

which  are  neglected ;  but  it  is  new.     And  let  the  fortunate  author 

31 


362  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

militant,  of  moderate  abilities,  who  is  banqueting  on  his  transient, 
and  perhaps  accidental  popularity,  use  that  popularity  wisely ; 
and,  bearing  in  mind  that  he  himself  must  expect  to  be  neglected 
in  his  turn,  let  him  thankfully  seize  his  little  season  of  fugitive 
renown;  let  him  devote  his  ephemeral  importance,  conscien- 
tiously to  throw  into  the  common  stock  his  quota  of  harmless 
pleasure  or  of  moral  profit.  Let  him  unaffectedly  rate  his  hum- 
ble, but  not  unuseful  labors,  at  their  just  price,  nor  despondingly 
conclude  that  he  has  written  altogether  in  vain,  though  he  do 
not  see  a  public  revolution  of  manners  succeed,  as  he  had  per- 
haps too  fondly  flattered  himself,  to  the  publication  of  his  book. 
Let  him  not  despair,  if,  though  he  have  had  many  readers,  he 
has  had  but  few  converts.  Nor  let  him  on  the  other  hand  be 
elated  by  a  celebrity  which  he  may  owe  more  to  his  novelty  than 
to  his  genius,  more  to  a  happy  combination  in  the  circumstan- 
ces of  the  times,  than  to  his  own  skill  or  care ;  and  most  of  all, 
to  his  having  diligently  observed,  that 

'  There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men ;' 

and  to  his  having,  accordingly,  launched  his  bark  at  the  favora- 
ble flow. 

"  The  well  intentioned  and  well  principled  author,  who  has  uni- 
formly thrown  all  his  weight,  though  that  weight  be  but  small, 
into  the  right  scale,  may  have  contributed  his  fair  proportion  to 
that  great  work  of  reformation,  which  will,  I  trust,  unless  atota. 
subversion  of  manners  should  take  place,  be  always  carrying  on 
in  the  world  ;  but  which  the  joint  concurrence  of  the  wisdom  of 
ages  will  find  it  hard  to  accomplish.  Such  an  author  may  have 
been  in  his  season  and  degree,  the  accepted  agent  of  that  Provi- 
dence who  works  by  many  and  different  instruments,  by  various 
and  successive  means ;  in  the  same  manner  as  in  the  manual 
labor  of  the  mechanic,  it  is  not  by  a  few  ponderous  strokes  that 
great  operations  are  effected,  but  by  a  patient  and  incessant  fol- 
lowing up  of  the  blow — ^by  reiterated  and  unwearied  returns  to 
the  same  object;  in  the  same  manner  as  in  the  division  of  labor, 
many  hands  of  moderate  strength  and  ability  may,  by  co-opera- 
tion, do  that  which  a  very  powerful  individual  might  have  failed 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  363 

to  accomplish.  It  is  the  privilege  of  few  authors  to  contribute 
largely  to  the  general  good,  but  almost  every  one  may  contribute 
something.  No  book  perhaps  is  perfectly  neutral ;  nor  are  the 
effects  of  any  altogether  indifferent.  From  all  our  reading  there 
will  be  a  bias  on  the  actings  of  the  mind,  though  with  a  greater 
or  less  degree  of  inclination,  according  to  the  degree  of  impres- 
sion made,  by  the  nature  of  the  subject,  the  ability  of  the  writer, 
and  the  disposition  of  the  reader.  And  though,  as  was  above 
observed,  the  whole  may  produce  no  general  effect,  proportion- 
ate to  the  hopes  of  the  author ;  yet  some  truths  may  be  picked 
out  from  among  many  that  are  neglected ;  some  single  sentiment 
may  be  seized  on  for  present  use ;  some  detached  principle  may 
be  treasured  up  for  future  practice. 

"  If  in  the  records  of  classic  story  we  are  told,  that  'the  most 
superb  and  lasting  monument  that  was  ever  consecrated  to  beauty, 
was  that  to  which  every  lover  carried  a  tribute,'  then  among  the 
accumulated  production  of  successive  volumes,  those  which, 
though  they  convey  no  new  information,  yet  illustrate  on  the 
whole  some  old  truth ;  those  which,  though  they  add  nothing  to 
the  stores  of  genius  or  of  science,  yet  if  they  help  to  establish 
and  enforce  a  single  principle  of  virtue,  they  may  be  accepted 
as  an  additional  mite  cast  by  the  willing  hand  of  affectionate 
indigence  into  the  treasury  of  Christian  morals. 

"  The  great  father  of  Roman  eloquence  has  asserted,  that  though 
every  man  should  propose  to  himself  the  highest  degrees  in  the 
scale  of  excellence ;  yet  he  may  stop  with  honor  at  the  second 
or  the  third.  Indeed,  the  utility  of  some  books  to  some  persons 
would  be  defeated  by  their  very  superiority.  The  writer  may 
be  above  the  reach  of  his  reader ;  he  may  be  too  lofty  to  be  pur- 
sued; he  may  be  too  profound  to  be  fathomed:  he  may  be  too 
abstruse  to  be  investigated ;  for  to  produce  delight  there  must  be 
intelligence;  there  must  be  something  of  concert  and  congruity. 
There  must  be  not  merely  that  intelligibility  which  arises  from 
the  perspicuousness  of  the  author,  but  that  also  which  depends 
on  the  capacity  and  perception  of  the  reader.  Between  him 
who  writes  and  him  who  reads,  there  must  be  a  kind  of  coalition 
of  interests,  something  of  a  partnership,  (however  unequal  the 


364  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

capital,)  in  mental  property;  a  sort  of  joint  stock  of  tastes  ana 
ideas.  The  student  must  have  been  initiated  into  the  same  intel- 
lectual commerce  with  him  whom  he  studies ;  for  large  bills  are 
only  negotiable  among  the  mutually  opulent. 

"  There  are  perhaps  other  reasons  why  popularity  is  no  infal- 
lible test  of  excellence.  Many  readers,  even  of  good  faculties, 
if  those  faculties  have  been  kept  inert  by  a  disuse  of  exertion, 
feel  often  most  sympathy  with  writers  of  a  middle  class ;  and 
find  more  repose  in  a  mediocrity  which  lulls  and  amuses  the 
mind,  than  with  a  loftiness  and  extent  which  exalts  and  expands 
]t.  To  enjoy  works  of  superlative  ability,  as  was  before  sug- 
gested, the  reader  must  have  been  accustomed  to  drink  at  the 
same  spring  from  which  the  writer  draws ;  he  must  be  at  the 
«^xpense  of  furnishing  part  of  his  own  entertainment,  by  bringing 
-^vith  him  a  share"  of  the  science  or  of  the  spirit  with  which  the 
author  writes. 

"  These  are  some  of  the  considerations,  which,  while  my  grati- 
tude has  been  excited  by  the  favorable  reception  of  my  various 
attempts,  have  helped  to  correct  that  vanity  which  is  so  easily 
kindled  where  merit  and  success  are  evidently  disproportionate. 

"  For  fair  criticism  I  have  ever  been  truly  thankful.  For  can- 
did correction,  from  whatever  quarter  it  came,  I  have  always  ex- 
hibited the  most  unquestionable  proof  of  my  regard,  by  adopting  it. 
Nor  can  I  call  to  mind  any  instance  of  improvement  which  has 
been  suggested  to  me  by  which  I  have  neglected  to  profit.*  I 
am  not  insensible  to  human  estimation.  To  the  approbation  of 
the  wise  and  good  I  have  been  perhaps  but  too  sensible.  But  I 
check  myself  in  the  indulgence  of  the  dangerous  pleasure,  by 
recollecting  that  the  hour  is  fast  approaching  to  all,  to  me  it  is 
very  fast  approaching,  when  no  human  verdict,  of  whatever 
authority  in  itself,  and  however  favorable  to  its  object,  will  avail 
any  thing,  but  inasmuch  as  it  is  crowned  with  the  acquittal  of 
that  Judge  whose  favor  is  eternal  life.     Every  emotion  of  vanity 

*If  it  be  objected  that  this  has  not  been  the  case  with  respect  to  one  single 
passage  which  has  excited  some  controversy,  it  has  aiisen  not  from  any  want 
of  openness  of  conviction  in  me,  but  from  my  conceiving  myself  to  have  been 
misunderstood,  and,  for  that  reason  only,  misrepresented. 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  365 

dies  away,  e\''ery  swelling  of  ambition  subsides  before  the  con- 
sideration of  this  solemn  responsibility.  And  though  I  have  just 
avowed  my  deference  for  the  opinion  of  private  critics,  and  of  pub- 
lic censors,  yet  my  anxiety  Avith  respect  to  the  sentence  of  both  is 
considerably  diminished,  by  the  reflection,  that  not  the  writings 
but  the  writer  will  very  soon  be  called  to  another  tribunal,  to  be 
judged  on  far  other  grounds  than  those  on  which  the  decisions 
of  literary  statutes  are  framed;  a  tribunal  at  which  the  sentence 
passed  will  depend  on  far  other  causes  than  the  observation  or 
neglect  of  the  rules  of  composition :  than  the  violation  of  any 
precepts,  or  the  adherence  to  any  decrees  of  critic  legislation. 

"  With  abundant  cause  to  be  humbled  at  the  mixed  motives 
of  even  my  least  exceptionable  writings,  I  am  willing  to  hope  that 
in  those  of  later  date,  at  least,  vanity,  has  not  been  the  governing 
principle.  And  if  in  sending  abroad  the  present  collection,  some 
sparks  of  this  inextinguishable  fire  should  struggle  to  break  out, 
let  it  be  at  once  quenched  by  the  reflection,  that  of  those  persons 
whose  kindness  stimulated,  and  whose  partiality  rewarded,  my 
early  efforts;  of  those  who  would  have  dwelt  on  these  pages 
with  most  pleasure,  the  eyes  of  the  greater  part  are  closed,  to 
open  no  more  in  this  world.  Even  while  the  pen  is  in  my  hand, 
framing  this  remark,  more  than  one  affecting  corroboration  of 
its  truth  occurs.  May  this  reflection,  at  once  painful  and  salu- 
tary, be  ever  at  hand  to  curb  the  insolence  of  success,  or  to 
countervail  the  mortification  of  defeat !  May  it  serve  to  purify 
the  motives  of  action,  while  it  inspires  resignation  to  its  event ! 
And  may  it  affect  both  without  diminishing  the  energies  of  duty, 
without  abating  the  activity  of  labor." 


Harriet  Newell  a  distinguished  missionary,  was  the 
daughter  of  Moses  Atwood,  a  merchant  of  Haverhill,  Massachu- 
setts. She  was  born  October  10th,  1793.  She  was  educated  at 
Bradford  academy,  with  Miss  Hazeltine,  afterwards  Mrs.  Judson. 
She  was  four  years  younger  than  that  celebrated  woman.  She 
became  pious  about  the  same  time,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  the  determination  of  Miss  Hazeltine  to  unite  herself  with 

Mr.  Judson,  and  to  become  a  missionary  to  the  East  Indies,  had 

31* 


366  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

a  great  effect  on  her  destiny.     She  was  married  at  the  same 
time  with  her  friend,  and  embarked  on  board  the  same  vessel 
for  India,  on  the  nineteenth  day  of  February,   1812;  but  after 
reaching  Calcutta,  she,  with  her  husband,  was  ohliged  to  embark 
for  the  Isle  of  France,  not  being  permitted  to  stay  at  Calcutta. 
On  the  eighth  of  October  she  became  the  mother  of  a  daughter, 
who  lived  but  live  days,  and  was  buried  in  the   ocean.     On 
reaching  the  Isle  of  France  she  lingered  until  the  twentieth  of 
November   1812,  just  nine  months  and  a  day  after  leaving  the 
shores  of  her  native  land.     She  was  indeed  the  first  martyr  in 
the  missionary  cause,  but  she  never  had  the  slightest  opportu- 
nity to  exert  her  activity  and  benevolence  in  a  cause  which  she, 
no  doubt,  had  near  at  heart.     She  was  a  young  woman  of  fair 
talents   and   respectable   acquirements,   and   of  unquestionable 
piety.     She  had  naturally  a  feeble  constitution,  which  could  not 
support  the  ill  she  was  called  to  suffer.     She  died  a  most  hopeful 
Christian.     She  wished  not  to  survive  her  confinement  and  the 
loss  of  her  babe,  but  was  desirous  of  sinking  into  the  sweet 
slumbers  of  the  grave,  and  her  wish  was  granted.     Before  her 
departure  she  had  written  many  letters  to  her  female  friends, 
which  are  proofs  of  good  talents,  and  a  warm  heart,  devoted 
to  the  great  causes  of  charity  and  religion.     She  left  a  circle  of 
friends  dear  to  her,  to  engage  in  the  missionary  cause  at  an  early 
period  of  life,  for  she  was  only  nineteen  years  of  age  at  her 
death.     In  every  good  and  great  cause  there  must  be  martyrs, 
and  she  was  the  first  among  American  missionaries  in  India. 
Mr.  Newell  survived  his  wife  for  several  years,  and  died  at 
Bombay  of  the  spasmodic  cholera,  having  probably  taken  the 
disease  in  attending  the  sick  and  dying.     He  was  a  man  of 
some  learning,  great  zeal,  and  well  suited  to  his  calling.     The 
account  of  the  death  of  his  wife  is  indeed  touching ;  it  bears  the 
marks  of  genuine  affection,  which  is  better  than  a  world  of  poetry 
in  speaking  of  the  sorrows  of  the  heart.     The  novelty  of  mis- 
sionary enterprise  has  gone  by,  and  the  matter  has  become  an 
every  day  business ;  but  still  it  requires  courage  and  perseverance 
to  engage  in  the  cause.     Some  have  questioned  the  utility  of 
their  labors,  but  when  we  consider  the  information  brought  to 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  367 

light  by  their  exertions,  the  number  of  translations  of  the  holy 
scriptures  which  they  have  multiplied,  who  would  venture  to 
say  that  their  efforts  have  been  useless  ?  If  ever  the  world  is 
to  be  Christianized,  it  must  be  by  multiplying  the  sacred  volume, 
and  by  carrying  it  to  all  tongues  and  people. 


NiTRocRis,  a  celebrated  queen  of  Babylon,  who  built  abridge 
across  the  Euphrates,  in  the  middle  of  that  city,  and  dug  a  num- 
ber of  reservoirs  for  the  superfluous  waters  of  that  river.  She 
ordered  herself  to  be  buried  over  one  of  the  gates  of  the  city, 
and  had  an  inscription  on  her  tomb,  which  signified  that  her 
successors  would  find  great  treasures  within,  if  ever  they  were 
in  need  of  money;  but  that  their  labors  would  be  but  ill  rep-aid 
if  ever  they  ventured  to  open  it  without  necessity.  Cyrus  opened 
it  through  curiosity,  and  was  struck  to  find  within  it  these 
words :  If  thy  avarice  had  not  been  insatiable,  thou  never 
wouldst  have  violated  the  monuments  of  the  dead. 


OcTAViA,  grand  niece  of  Julius  Cassar,  and  sister  to  Augustus, 
was  the  daughter  of  Caius  Octavius  and  Atia,  Romans  of  dis- 
tinguished birth  and  virtue.  She  received,  in  the  house  of  her 
parents,  a  strict  and  exemplary  education  ;  she  was  early  accus- 
tomed to  control  her  feelings,  to  discipline  her  imagination,  to 
sacrifice  her  inclinations  to  others,  and  to  impart  the  benefits  she 
received.  The  modesty  of  her  deportment,  her  unaffected  and 
simple  manners,  the  beauty  of  her  person,  her  virtues  and  fine 
qualities,  rendered  her  the  boast  and  ornament  of  the  court ; 
while  her  splendid  connections,  and  affinity  to  the  adopted  son 
of  Caesar,  procured  her  the  devotion  of  the  Roman  youth,  who 
eagerly  aspired  to  her  alliance.  Octavia,  humble  and  unam- 
bitious, shunned  the  public  homage ;  dreading  to  be  made  a 
sacrifice  to  political  motives,  she  sighed  after  that  purer  happi- 
ness, which,  seated  in  the  mind,  gratifies  the  heart  and  its  affec- 
tions. It  was  proposed,  during  the  civil  war  between  Caesar 
and  Pompey,  that  Octavia  should  be  given  to  the  latter  as  a 
pledge  of  union,  and  that  a  period  might  be  put  to  the  dissen- 
sions which  desolated  Rome ;  but  other  circumstances  arising, 


368  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

interrupted  this  negociation,  and  for  the  present,  delivered  the 
princess  from  a  destiny  which,  however  adverse  to  her  feelings, 
she  had  determined  not  to  oppose.  That  the  happiness  of  indi- 
Adduals  should  yield  to  the  public  welfare,  was  a  principle  which 
had  been  early  impressed  on  her  mind. 

Claudius  Marcellus,  at  this  time,  possessed  the  consular 
dignity,  and  with  it,  the  respect  and  confidence  of  the  citizens. 
The  reputation  of  his  virtues  had  attracted  the  attention  of 
Octavia ;  by  a  farther  acquaintance  v/ith  his  character,  esteem 
was  softened  into  tenderness ;  the  princess  rejoiced  when  she 
found  herself  destined,  by  her  brother,  to  be  the  wife  of  a  man 
whom  her  judgment  and  her  heart  equally  approved.  Marcellus 
united  to  an  agreeable  person  and  engaging  manners,  the  quali- 
ties of  a  Roman  citizen,  of  a  hero,  and  of  a  sage.  In  these 
nuptials,  Octavia  found  realized  the  most  sanguine  wishes  of  a 
virtuous  and  tender  heart.  Marcellus  loved  his  wife  with  entire 
affection,  and  confided  in  her  as  a  friend ;  they  seemed  anima- 
ted but  by  one  soul ;  while  their  affections,  their  pursuits,  their 
taste,  and  their  judgment,  were  in  perfect  unison. 

This  harmony  received  no  other  interruption  than  from  the 
calamities  with  which  the  state  was  torn,  when  the  proscription  of 
the  triumvirs  deluged  Rome  with  blood.  Octavia  exerted,  on 
this  occasion,  her  influence  with  her  brother,  to  humanize  his 
heart,  and  put  a  stop  to  the  effusion  of  Roman  blood.  She  refused 
her  protection  and  good  offices  to  no  one,  while  her  house  was 
the  refusfe  of  the  unfortunate.  When  these  troubles  were  in 
some  degree  allayed,  Octavia  requested  permission  to  retire,  with 
her  husband,  from  the  tumults  of  the  city,  to  devote  themselves 
to  the  leisure  of  a  tranquil  and  studious  life.  But  the  pleasure 
which  Octavius  experienced  in  their  society,  frustrated  the  exe- 
cution of  this  plan,  and  still  detained  them  in  the  capital.  Octavia 
took  no  share  in  the  dissipations  of  the  court,  or  the  amusements 
common  to  her  cex  and  rank ;  secluded  in  her  house,  and  devo- 
ted to  her  husband,  she  assisted  him  in  his  serious  occupations, 
shared  his  pleasures,  and  passed  in  his  society  her  most  delight- 
ful hours. 

Weeks  and  months  thus  glided  away  in  delicious  tranquility, 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  369 

when  Marcellus  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  fever,  which,  in  its 
commencement,  exhibited  the  most  malignant  symptoms;  his 
physicians,  at  the  expiration  of  two  days,  despaired  of  his  re- 
covery, and  exhorted  him  to  settle  his  affairs.  Marcellus, 
receiving  the  sentence  of  his  death  with  manly  fortitude,  em- 
ployed the  short  remainder  of  a  useful  and  exemplary  life,  in 
consoling  his  beloved  wife,  in  entreating  her  to  support  with 
firmness  their  separation,  and  to  transfer  to  the  pledges  of  their 
affection  her  cares  and  tenderness.  The  best  support  of  his 
dying  moments,  he  assured  her,  would  be  the  conviction,  that 
she  would  bear  with  resignation  his  loss ;  that  she  would  not 
indulge  in  weak  though  fruitless  sorrow ;  but  look  forward  to 
nevv  scenes  of  happiness,  which  her  virtues  merited,  and  of 
which  her  youth,  her  rank,  and  the  vicissitudes  of  human  af- 
fairs, gave  her  a  reasonable  prospect.  Having  breathed  his 
last,  the  sorrow  which,  while  her  services  might  be  yet  useful, 
Octavia  had  stifled  in  her  bosom,  burst  forth  uncontrolled ;  while 
overpowered  by  the  acuteness  of  her  anguish,  she  sunk  into  a 
trance,  and  remained  for  some  hours  insensible  to  her  loss. 
Time  only  could  soften  a  grief  so  deep,  sincere,  and  reasonable. 
Octavia  found  in  her  widowhood  no  mitigation  of  her  affliction, 
but  in  calling  to  mind  the  dying  injunctions  of  her  husband, 
and  the  duties  and  cares  which  her  children  demanded.  With 
the  consent  of  her  brother,  she  retired  from  Rome,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  devoting  herself  to  the  education  of  her  offspring,  the 
only  object  which  now  attached  her  to  life. 

Soon  after  this  period,  the  civil  war  having  commenced  be- 
tween Octavius  and  Antony,  it  was  proposed  by  the  common 
friends  of  the  triumvirs,  that  as  a  pledge  of  conciliation,  the 
widow  of  Marcellus  should  be  bestowed  on  Antony.  Octavia 
heard  this  proposal  with  horror  and  repugnance  ;  she  knew  not 
how  to  promise  to  Antony,  vi^hose  infatuation  to  the  queen  of 
Egypt,  and  whose  neglect  of  his  former  wife  had  been  notori- 
ous, that  affection  and  respect  Avhich  the  tenderness  and  virtues 
of  Marcellus  had  made  not  less  her  duty  than  her  happiness. 
She  felt  the  dissimilarity  of  her  own  character  to  that  of  the 
man   who   now    demanded  her,  and  the  sacrifice  which   was 


370  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

exacted  from  her;  she  foresaw  the  misery  into  which  she  was 
about  to  be  plunged,  while  the  peace  of  Rome,  and  the  duties 
which  she  owed  to  her  distracted  country,  struggled  with  her 
repugnance  ;  after  a  severe  internal  conflict,  hopeleSvS  of  happi- 
ness, she  determined  to  become  a  victim  to  the  public  safety. 

By  the  Roman  laws,  widows  were  forbidden,  within  the  first 
ten  months  of  their  widowhood,  to  contract  a  new  engagement ; 
but,  from  motives  of  state,  a  dispensation  was  on  this  occasion 
granted  for  the  marriage  of  Octavia.  A  renewal  of  the  civil 
war  was  dreaded  by  the  people ;  the  most  auspicuous  hopes 
were,  from  the  beauty,  and  fine  qualities  of  Octavia,  entertained 
from  this  union ;  common  forms  appeared  comparatively  unim- 
portant ;  the  nuptials  were  accordingly  hastened,  and  celebrated 
in  Rome,  in  the  year  714,  amid  the  joyful  acclamations  of  the 
nation.  The  sadness  which  clouded  the  brow  of  the  bride, 
seemed  to  ^n'eld  to  the  public  demonstration  of  satisfaction ;  con- 
scious of  having  bestowed  on  Antony,  with  an  alienated  heart, 
a  reluctant  hand,  she  determined  to  make  up,  by  the  attentive 
dischara:e  of  her  duties,  for  the  absence  of  those  sentiments  over 
which  she  felt  she  had  no  control. 

A  peace  being  thus  concluded  between  the  triumvirs,  Augus- 
tus continued  in  Italy,  while  Antony,  with  Octavia,  passed  into 
Greece,  and  remained  during  the  winter  at  Athens.  The  Athe- 
nians omitted  no  respect  due  to  the  rank  and  virtues  of  Octavia, 
who,  observing  her  husband  at  times  emerging  from  the  licen- 
tious habits  which  he  had  but  too  habitually  indulged,  and  seek- 
ing the  society  of  men  of  science  and  learning,  began  to  be 
better  reconciled  to  her  situation,  and  to  cherish  hopes  of  his 
reformation.  While  her  youth  and  beauty,  her  gentleness,  her 
complaisance  and  watchful  attentions,  appeared  to  gain  an  influ- 
ence over  the  mind  of  Antony,  and  to  banish  from  his  recollec- 
tion his  Egyptian  mistress,  the  grateful  sense  which  he  mani- 
fested of  her  conduct  awakened  a  real  tenderness  in  the  sensible 
heart  of  Octavia. 

These  promising  appearances  were  of  no  long  duration  ;  the 
gentleness  and  affection  of  Octavia  were  of  a  nature  too  uniform 
for  senses  accustomed  to  the  stimulus  of  licentious  gratification. 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  371 

her  virtaes,  her  ingenuousness,  her  simplicity,  were  feeble  attrac- 
tions to  a  debauched  imagination,  corrupted  by  meretricious  arts ; 
even  the  zeal  with  which  she  entered  into  his  interest,  and  the 
frankness  with  which  she  suggested  plans  for  his  advantage,  dis- 
gusted the  self  love  of  Antony.  In  the  clear  judgment  and  admi- 
rable understanding  of  his  wife,  he  seemed  to  find  a  rival,  while 
the  homage  which  her  virtues  exacted  appeared  a  tacit  reproach 
to  his  vices.  Cleopatra  had  governed  him  by  artifice  and  flattery ; 
the  sincerity  of  Octavia  was  offensive  to  his  vanity, 

Augustus,  still  engaged  in  a  war  with  the  son  of  Pompey, 
demanded  succors  from  Antony,  who,  under  pretence  of  assist- 
ing him,  but  for  the  real  purpose  of  informing  himself  of  the 
state  of  affairs  at  Rome,  and  of  deriving  from  them  advantage, 
returned  to  Italy.  A  mutual  jealousy  and  coldness  ensued ;  An- 
tony, refused  entrance  in  the  haven  of  Brandusium,  put  into 
Tarentum,  whence,  at  her  request,  he  sent  Octavia  to  her  brother. 
Augustus,  touched  by  the  remonstrances  and  supplications  of  a 
beloved  sister,  consented  to  wave  the  cause  of  his  contention  with 
her  husband,  and  to  return  with  her  to  Tarentum.  On  this  occa- 
sion, reciprocal  demonstrations  of  reconciliation  and  friendship, 
through  the  mediation  of  Octavia,  passed  between  the  princes. 

After  this  interview,  Antony,  leaving  Octavia  with  her  brother 
in  Italy,  returned  into  the  east,  where  he  again  fell  into  the 
snares  of  Cleopatra.  While  occupied  in  the  duties  of  her  fa- 
mily, (to  which  she  had  added  the  children  of  Antony  by  his 
former  marriage,)  Octavia  continued  at  Rome,  she  heard  with 
sorrow,  but  without  anger,  of  the  infatuation  of  her  husband, 
and  of  the  disastrous  issue  of  the  Parthian  campaign.  Having 
vainly  endeavored  to  palliate  to  her  brother  his  conduct,  alarmed 
for  the  safety  of  this  unworthy  husband,  she  resolved  to  return 
into  the  east,  and  to  make  a  last  effort  to  avert  from  him  the 
evils  by  w^hich  he  was  menaced.  Having  prepared  to  execute 
her  determination,  she  received  letters  from  Antony,  who  had 
been  informed  of  her  design,  commanding  her  to  stop  at  Athens, 
where  she  soon  learned  that,  absorbed  in  his  passion  for  the 
queen  of  Egypt,  he  was  solicitous  to  avoid  the  presence  of  his 
wife.     To  the  harsh  mandate  which  stopped  her  progress,  she 


372  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

* 

returned  an  answer  full  of  meekness  and  submission,  requesting 
directions  in  what  manner  to  dispose  of  the  presents  she  had 
brought  with  her,  and  of  which  she  solicited  Antony's  accept- 
ance. By  an  answer,  still  more  severe  and  peremptory,  her 
immediate  return  to  Rome  was  commanded;  proper  orders,  it 
was  added,  would  be  given  for  the  disposal  of  the  presents, 
which  she  might  leave  behind  her  in  Athens.  On  receiving 
these  commands,  Octavia,  without  a  murmur  at  the  indignities 
which  she  suffered,  returned  to  Rome ;  and,  taking  up  her  resi- 
dence in  the  house  of  her  husband,  notwithstanding  the  remon- 
strances and  entreaties  of  her  brother,  who  urged  her  to  leave 
him  to  his  fate,  devoted  herself  to  the  education  of  her  own  and 
his  children.  She  omitted  no  endeavors  to  soothe  the  pride  and 
resentment  of  Augustus,  while  she  implored  him  not  to  make 
her  wrongs,  which  she  could  sustain  with  fortitude,  a  pretence 
of  involving  Rome  in  the  miseries  of  a  civil  war.  When  at 
length,  at  the  instigation  of  her  rival,  she  was,  by  order  of  An- 
tony, compelled  to  quit  his  house,  her  tears  flowed  more  for  the 
fatal  consequences  she  apprehended  from  this  insult,  than  from 
her  own  peculiar  sorrows. 

This  heroic  conduct  tended  but  to  accelerate  those  evils  to  her 
country,  which  she  was  solicitous  to  avert.  The  contempt  and 
indignation  of  the  people  were  roused  by  the  infatuation  of 
Antony,  whom  the  artifices  of  a  voluptuous  woman  held  in  dis- 
graceful bondage,  blinding  him  to  the  merits  of  his  admirable 
wife,  who  surpassed  her  rival,  not  merely  in  the  qualities  of  the 
heart  and  mind,  but  in  the  attractions  of  youth  and  beauty.  In 
proportion  as  she  exerted  herself  to  lessen,  by  patient  cheerful- 
ness, and  in  kind  offices  to  the  children  and  friends  of  her  hus- 
band, the  public  sense  of  her  injuries,  she  added,  without  intend- 
ing it,  fuel  to  the  hatred  and  rage  of  the  nation.  Being  desirous 
of  making  one  more  effort  to  recal,  by  her  personal  influence, 
the  affections  of  her  husband,  she  obtained  permission  of  her 
brother  to  execute  her  purpose,  in  the  secret  hope  that,  by  the 
multiplied  insults  of  Antony  to  his  incomparable  wife,  the 
Romans  might  be  roused  to  vengeance.  Cleopatra,  informed  of 
the  design  of  her  rival,  and  dreading  the  effect  of  her  merit  and 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  373 

perseverance,  put  in  practice  every  artifice,  to  induce  her  lover 
to  forbid  her  approach.  She  represented  to  him,  that  it  was 
sufficient  glory  for  Octavia,  to  bear  the  title  of  his  wife,  while 
herself,  a  sovereign  princess,  submitted  to  that  of  mistress ;  nor, 
so  ardent  was  the  passion  with  which  he  had  inspired  her,  could 
she  think  herself  degraded  by  the  proofs  she  had  given  him  of 
her  affection,  while  he  did  not,  by  separating  himself  from  her, 
plunge  her  into  despair.  The  friends  of  Antony,  on  the  other 
side,  pressed  him  to  send  back  Cleopatra  from  Ephesus,  whither 
she  had  followed  him,  and  to  avert,  by  this  measure,  the  storm 
which  threatened  him  from  Rome.  But  the  influence  of  his 
mistress  triumphed  over  the  subjected  mind  of  her  lover,  whom 
she  prevailed  on  to  take  her  with  him  wherever  he  should  re- 
move. On  their  arrival  at  Athens,  where  Octavia  had  been 
received  with  peculiar  distinction,  the  queen  of  Egypt  courted 
popularity  by  the  most  lavish  generosity. 

The  war,  which  the  imprudence  of  Antony  at  length  pro- 
voked, terminated  in  his  ruin.  After  the  battle  of  Actium,  in 
which,  betrayed  by  Cleopatra,  he  fled  covered  with  disgrace, 
Octavia,  by  repeated  messages,  entreated  him  to  authorzie  her 
mediation  with  her  brother,  and  to  allow  her  to  be  the  pledge  of 
his  future  conduct,  while  she  assured  him  of  her  forgiveness  of 
the  past,  and  her  determination  never,  by  recrimination  or  re- 
proach, to  revive  the  memory  of  his  disaster.  But  vain  were  all 
the  efforts  of  this  heroic  and  unfortunate  woman ;  Antony,  deaf 
to  her  supplications,  chose  rather  to  die  with  her  perfidious  rival. 
Octavia,  illustrious  in  virtue  and  in  descent,  to  whom  nature 
and  fortune  had  been  equally  lavish,  the  dawn  of  whose  life  pro- 
mised a  brilliant  and  unclouded  day,  beheld  the  sun  of  her  pros- 
perity set  at  noon ;  over  the  remainder  of  her  life  thick  dark- 
ness rested,  while  towards  its  close,  the  gloom  deepened.  Mar- 
cus Claudius  Marcellus,  her  son  by  her  former  marriage,  who 
inherited  the  virtues  of  his  parents,  was  the  pride  and  boast 
of  Rome  ;  while  united  to  the  daughter  of  Augustus,  he  was 
regarded  as  presumptive  heir  of  the  empire.  This  son,  so  dear 
to  Octavia,  in  whom  his  father  seemed  yet  to  survive,  died  in 

the  flower  of  his  age.     From  a  blow  thus  severe,  which  seemed 

32 


374  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

to  fill  up  the  measure  of  her  calamities,  Octavia  never  recovered. 
The  eulogy  of  Marcellus,  composed  by  Virgil,  is  inserted  in 
the  ^nead,  book  VI.  verse  860.  On  its  recital  by  the  poet,  in 
the  presence  of  Augustus  and  his  sister,  the  emperor  melted  into 
tears,  and  the  unhappy  mother  swooned  away. 

Octavia  gave  up  the  remainder  of  her  life  to  solitude;  in 
which,  brooding  incessantly  over  her  misfortunes  her  temper 
became  soured,  and  her  mind  broken ;  cherishing  a  spirit  of 
misanthropy,  she  even  sickened  at  the  glory  of  her  brother.  She 
could  not  endure  to  hear  any  woman  named  who  possessed  the 
happiness  of  being  a  mother ;  she  would  suffer  no  person  to 
speak  to  her  of  her  son,  on  whom,  notwithstanding,  her  thoughts 
perpetually  dwelt;  she  rejected  all  comfort  and  amusement, 
appeared  buried  in  the  most  profound  sadness,  and  sought  dark- 
ness and  solitude ;  clothed  in  deep  mourning,  she  appeared 
to  have  lost  all  interest  in  life,  and  to  become  indifferent  to  the 
fate  of  her  children  who  survived.  Repeated  sorrows  had  ex- 
hausted her  fortitude ;  the  spring  of  her  mind  was  weakened  by 
suffering.  If  at  times  she  returned  to  the  studies  in  which  she 
had  before  delighted,  philosophy  was  found  ineffectual  to  heal 
the  wound  of  a  deeply  lacerated  spirit. 

In  this  situation  she  suffered  life  thirteen  years,  and  died  uni- 
versally esteemed  and  pitied,  in  744,  at  Rome.  She  left  two 
daughters,  the  offspring  of  her  union  with  Antony,  who  formed 
advantageous  alliances.  A  temple,  it  is  said  by  Pausanius,  was 
erected  at  Corinth,  in  honor  of  her  constancy  and  virtues.  She 
took  into  her  own  family  the  children  of  Cleopatra,  whose 
daughter  she  gave  in  marriage  to  the  king  of  Mauritania,  cele- 
brated for  his  wisdom  and  knowledgfe  of  the  sciences. 


Phcebe  Phillips.  This  remarkable  woman,  who  died  at 
Andover,  in  the  year  1818,  was  born  at  Cambridge,  Massachu- 
setts. She  was  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Foxcroft,  a  gentleman  of 
wealth  and  high  standing,  who  gave  her  a  good  education  for 
the  times.  To  her  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  faculty  of 
Harvard  University  from  childhood,  may,  in  some  measure,  be 
attributed  her  elegant  style  of  conversation,  which  surpassed 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  375 

that  of  any  one,  male  or  female,  in  this  country.  She  saw  the 
subject  under  consideration,  in  all  its  bearings,  and  clothed  it  in 
most  felicitous  languag-e.  There  Avas  no  redundancy — no  stint 
— ^no  singularity,  except  that  of  supreme  refinement — nothing  to 
excite  surprise,  in  her  conversation ;  but  the  most  learned  list- 
ened with  profound  admiration  at  her  taste  and  skill  in  language. 
She  was  fond  of  her  pen,  and  took  delight  in  keeping  up  an 
extensive  correspondence  with  literary  and  religious  persons. 
She  wrote  with  great  ease  and  rapidity,  in  a  chirography,  at 
once  plain  as  a  printed  page,  and  whose  beauty  was  only  ex- 
ceeded by  the  thought  it  contained.  She  was  married  to  feamuel 
Phillips,  of  Andover,  a  young  man,  at  that  period  most  zealously 
engaged  in  the  cause  of  his  country,  anxious  for  its  political 
prosperity,  and  for  its  advancement  in  learning ;  and  he  found  a 
most  admirable  coadjutor  in  his  wife.  During  the  dark  period 
of  the  revolution,  she  sat  up  until  midnight,  with  the  females  of 
her  household,  to  make  garments  for  the  poor  destitute  soldiers, 
and  in  scraping  lint  or  cutting  bandages  for  the  hospitals.  The 
sick,  in  her  neighborhood,  of  all  classes,  were  inquired  after,  and 
every  thing  that  could  administer  to  their  comfort  was  sent  from 
her  hospitable  mansion. 

The  academy,  founded  by  her  husband  and  his  uncle,  was  in 
the  immediate  vicinity  of  her  residence,  and  every  pupil's  health 
Avas  a  subject  of  her  attention ;  and  to  those  who  had  come  from 
a  distance,  and  had  no  natural  guardian  near,  she  acted  the  part 
of  a  parent,  at  all  times.  Devoted  to  religion,  with  more  than 
•'  the  cloistered  maiden's  zeal,"  she  had  not  a  particle  of  bigotry 
in  her  disposition,  and  one  might  have  lived  with  her  for  years 
without  knowing  her  sentiments  upon  any  particular  point  in 
divinity.  At  her  table — for  h-er  husband  was  so  deeply  engaged 
in  politics  and  business,  that  he  left  all  the  household  cares 
upon  her — might  be  found,  almost  every  day  in  the  week, 
clergymen  who  met  no  where  else,  from  a  difference  in  creeds, 
and  persons  of  distinction  in  the  various  callings  of  life,  and 
from  different  parts  of  the  country.  For  more  than  forty  years 
this  hospitality  was  uninterrupted,  and  her  cares  unceasing. 

Her  person  was  striking,  tall  above  most  women ;  her  mien 


376  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

was  majestic,  without  any  awkwardness  from  her  height ;  her 
features  were  prominent,  but  softened  by  a  fine  mild  expression ; 
and  her  large  blue  eye  was  full  of  sweetness  of  temper,  while  it 
beamed  with  genius.  Seldom  has  it  been  that  any  woman  was 
so  capable  of  doing  good  as  she,  and  more  seldom  have  been 
the  opportunities  to  exercise  the  capacity.  There  has  scarcely 
been  a  single  individual  who  ever  knew  her,  that  had  not  some 
remembrance  of  her  talents  and  virtues  in  his  mind,  and  most 
of  them  could  relate  some  acts  of  kindness  toward  themselves. 
She  made  no  parade  of  attainments ;  but  all  her  information 
seemed  to  flow  in  conversation,  as  though  it  w-ere  intuitive,  and 
addressed  to  those  in  company,  as  if  she  considered  every  one 
about  her  superior  to  herself,  in  memory  and  reasoning  powers 
— in  fact,  in  every  attainment  and  gift.  Her  charity  for  all, 
was  that  which  suffers  long,  but  her  discrimination  was  admi- 
rable. She  saw  at  a  glance  into  the  elements  of  character. 
The  writer  of  this  faint  sketch  of  a  most  excellent  woman,  re- 
collects numerous  prophecies  upon  the  future  developement  of 
the  talents  of  children  about  her,  and  hardly  one  of  them  but  has 
proved  true,  of  those  who  lived  to  form  a  character.  When 
others  judged  by  a  lesson,  or  a  few  recitations,  she  formed  her 
opinion  from  some  act  or  remark  of  the  boy  which  might  have 
passed  unnoticed  by  others.  With  all  her  firmness  of  soul,  she 
had  a  heart  most  feelingly  alive  to  the  misfortunes  of  others. 
Often  "her  pity  gave  ere  charity  began;"  and  she  was  dis- 
tressed even  at  the  sufferings  of  the  wicked.  Her  maxims 
sunk  deep  into  the  minds  of  those  who  had  the  good  fortune  of 
hearing  them,  and  her  commands  were  never  forgotten.  A  lad, 
seeing  from  her  window  a  wretched  looking  man,  going  to  the 
whipping  post  to  receive  corporeal  punishment  for  a  petty  lar- 
ceny, sentenced  by  a  justice  of  the  peace  to  this  ignominy,  strove 
to  conceal  a  tear,  but  this  excellent  w^oman  observed  it.  With 
one  starting  in  her  own  eye,  she  emphatically  said  to  him, 
"  When  you  become  a  law  maker,  examine  the  subject  of  cor- 
poral punishment,  and  see  if  it  is  not  unnatural,  vindictive,  and 
productive  of  much  evil."  In  early  manhood  he  became  a  le- 
gislator, and  remembering   the  words  which  made  a  strong 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  377 

impression  at  the  time,  he  called  the  attention  of  the  assembly 
to  the  subject,  and  in  the  course  of  a  short  time,  had  the 
satisfaction  of  announcing  to  her,  that  the  statute  book  had  been 
expurgated,  in  this  respect,  and  that  there  was,  in  future,  to  be 
no  more  corporal  punishment  for  any  offence  less  than  capital. 
After  her  husband's  death  she  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the 
Theological  Seminary  at  Andover,  and  took  a  deep  interest  in 
the  institution  as  long  as  she  lived. 


Falconia  Anicia,  or  Valeria  Proba,  wife  of  Anicius 
Probus,  who  was  a  Roman  consul  in  371,  with  the  emperor 
Gratian.  She  rendered  herself  illustrious  by  her  understanding 
and  piety,  St.  Augustine,  Chrysostom,  and  Jerome,  have 
praised  her  in  the  highest  manner.  She  composed  a  life  of  our 
Savior,  by  putting  together  divers  lines  and  passages  of  Virgil, 
with  which  she  formed  what  the  Latins  call  a  Centos,  a  sort  of 
composition  with  more  conceit  than  merit  in  it.  This  work  was 
printed  at  Venice  in  1472,  and  again,  by  Wolius,  in  1734,  4to. 


Phillippa,  of  Hainault,  queen  of  England,  was  betrothed 
to  Edward,  when  prince  of  Wales,  in  1325,  through  the  media- 
tion of  Isabella  his  mother,  who  sojourned  a  short  time  at  the 
court  of  the  earl  of  Hainault,  when  preparing  to  pass  over  to 
England  with  her  son,  both  of  whom  had  been  declared  traitors. 
After  the  death  of  the  king,  and  the  coronation  of  Edward  III., 
certain  ambassadors  were  sent  to  demand  the  lady  Phillippa, 
who  was  conveyed  to  England  in  great  state,  and  on  the  day  of 
the  conversion  of  St.  Paul,  the  marriage  and  coronation  of  the 
queen  was  solemnized.  The  rejoicings,  &c.,  lasted  three  weeks. 
She  founded  Queen's  College,  Oxford,  about  1366. 


Christina  de  Pisan,  an  Italian  lady,  was  born  at  Venice  in 

1 363.     At  the  age  of  fifteen  she  was  married,  but  became  a 

widow  two  years  afterwards ;  on  which  she  had  recourse  to  her 

pen  for  support.     She  wrote  poems  which  were  printed  at  Paris 

in  1529;  the  "Treasure  of  the  city  of  Dames"  was  printed  in 

1497:  and  the  "  Long  Way,"  -translated  by  Chaperon,  in  1549. 

32» 


378  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Anthony  Widville,  Earl  Rivers,  translated  a  work  of  hers  entitled 
"  The  Moral  Proverbs  of  Christian  of  Pyse,"  printed  by  Caxton. 

Katherine  Phillips,  celebrated  under  the  poetical  name 
of  Orinda,  was  daughter  of  John  Fowler,  of  Backlenburg,  Lon- 
don, merchant,  and  of  Katherine,  daughter  of  Daniel  Oxenbridge, 
M.  D.,  was  born  in  the  parish  of  St.  Mary  Wool  church,  Lon- 
don, January,  1st.,  1G31.  A  female  relation,  Mrs.  Blackett,  had 
the  charge  of  her  infancy  and  early  childhood.  At  eight  years 
of  age,  she  was  placed  in  a  school  at  Hackney,  under  the  care 
of  Mr.  Salmon,  where  her  improvements  were  singular  and 
rapid.  She  displayed  an  early  taste  for  poetical  composition, 
and  a  devotional  turn  of  mind,  somewhat  enthusiastic,  origina- 
ting probably  in  the  sensibility  of  temper  inseparable  from 
'genius,  and  in  the  spirit  and  manners  of  the  times.  She  had 
perused  the  bible  throughout  before  she  was  four  years  of  age, 
and  had  committed  to  memory  many  passages  and  chapters. 
At  ten  years  of  age  she  would  repeat,  with  scarce  any  omissions, 
entire  sermons,  of  which  she  was  a  frequent  hearer.  She  also 
began  early  to  exercise  her  fancy  in  poetical  composition.  She 
acquired  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  French  language,  and 
applied  herself  successfully  to  the  Latin,  with  the  assistance  of 
an  ingenious  friend.  Sir  Charles  Cotterel.  She  was  educated 
in  the  principles  of  the  presbyterian  dissenters,  but  became 
afterwards  a  proselyte  to  the  established  church,  and  the  royal- 
ist party. 

In  the  year  1647,  she  gave  her  hand  to  James  Phillips,  Esq., 
of  the  priory  of  Cardigan.  The  fortune  of  Mr.  Phillips  being 
encumbered  and  embarrassed,  Mrs.  Phillips,  by  her  economy, 
prudence,  and  excellent  management,  added  to  her  interest  with 
Sir  Charles  Cotterel,  whose  friendship  for  her  rendered  him 
zealous  in  the  cause  of  her  husband,  nearly  extricated  him,  in 
the  course  of  a  few  years,  from  the  difficulties  in  which  he  had 
been  involved. 

During  her  retirement  at  Cardigan,  she  cultivated  poetry  as 
an  amusement,  to  beguile  her  solitary  hours.  Copies  of  her 
poems  being  dispersed  among  her  friends,  they  were  collected, 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  379 

and  published  anonymously,  in  8vo,  1633,  without  the  knowledge 
or  consent  of  the  author,  Mrs.  Philip's  vexation  at  this  circum- 
stance, which  she  appears  acutely  to  feel,  and  sensibly  laments, 
in  a  letter  to  Sir  Charles  Cotterel,  occasioned  her  a  severe  fit  of 
illness. 

The  charms  of  her  conversation,  her  modesty,  sweetness,  and 
unassuming  manners,  rendered  her  the  delight  of  her  acquaint- 
ance, while  her  genius  and  talents  procured  for  her  the  friend- 
ship of  men,  distinguished  for  their  merit,  their  talents,  and  their 
rank,  among  whom  may  be 'mentioned  the  earls  of  Ormond, 
Orrery,  and  Roscommon.  The  affairs  of  Mr.  Philips,  having 
rendered  the  presence  of  his  wife  necessary  in  Ireland,  she  ac- 
companied thither  the  viscountess  Dungannon,  and  was  received 
with  distinction  and  esteem.  During  her  residence  in  that 
kingdom,  she  was  induced,  by  the  importunity  of  the  before 
mentioned  noblemen,  to  translate  into  English,  from  the  French 
of  Corneille,  the  tragedy  of  Pompey,  which  was  acted  with  ap- 
plause on  the  Irish  stage,  in  1663,  also,  in  1664,  when  it  was 
printed,  and  given  to  the  public,  and  a  prologue  added,  by  Lord 
Roscommon. 

Mrs.  Philips,  also  translated  from  the  French  of  Corneille, 
the  tragedy  of  Horace,  to  which  a  fifth  act  was  added  by  Sir 
John  Denham ;  and  which  was  represented  by  persons  of  rank, 
at  court,  with  a  prologue  spoken  by  the  duke  of  Monmouth. 

In  Ireland,  Mrs.  Philips  renewed  a  former  friendship  with 
Dr.  Jeremy  Taylor,  bishop  of  Downe,  and  Connor,  who  some 
time  previously,  had  published  and  inscribed  to  her,  "  A  Dis- 
course of  the  Nature,  Office,  and  Measure  of  Friendship,  with 
Rules  of  conducting  it,  in  a  Letter  to  the  most  ingenious  and 
excellent  Mrs.  Katharine  Phillips."  In  this  production  many 
high  compliments  are  paid  to  the  sex,  to  their  capacity  of  friend- 
ship, and  the  more  elevated  virtues,  exemplified  by  allusions  to 
the  celebrated  characters  of  antiquity. 

Mrs.  Philips  left  Ireland  in  1663,  and  in  London  she  was 
unfortunately  seized  with  the  small  pox,  which  proving  fatal, 
she  expired  June,  22d,  1664,  in  the  thirty-fourth  year  of  her  age. 

Her  poems  and  translations,  were,  after  her  decease,  collected, 


380  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

and  published  in  one  volume,  folio,  in  1667,  and  entitled,  "  Po- 
ems, by  the  most  deservedly  admired  Mrs.  Katharine  Phillips, 
the  matchless  Orinda;  to  which^'Tire  added,  M.  Corneille's  Pora- 
pey,  and  Horace,  Tragedies ;  with  several  other  Translations 
from  the  French :  and  her  picture  before  them,  engraved  by 
Faithowe."  A  second  edition  was  printed  in  1678,  in  the  pre- 
face to  which,  the  reader  is  told,  "  that  Mrs.  Phillips  wrote  famil- 
iar letters  'with  facility,  in  a  very  fair  hand,  and  perfect  orthogra- 
phy; which,  if  collected,  with  the  excellent  discourses  written 
by  her  on  various  subjects,  would  make  a  volume  much  larger 
than  her  poems." 

Mrs.  Phillips,  is  said,  by  Mr.  Langbain,  to  have  equalled  the 
Lesbian  Sappho,  in  genius,  and  the  Roman  Sulpicia,  in  virtue. 
To  this  he  adds,  "as  they  were  praised  by  Horace,  Martial,  Au- 
sonius,  and  other  eminent  poets,  so  was  this  lady  commended  by 
the  earls  of  Orrery,  and  Roscommon,  by  Cowley,  and  other  emi- 
nent men."  An  anonymous  writer,  in  the  second  volume  of  the 
duke  of  Wharton's  works,  thus  speaks  of  Mrs.  Phillips :  "  1 
have  been  looking  into  the  writings  of  Mrs.  Phillips,  and  have 
been  wonderfully  pleased  with  her  solid  and  masculine  thoughts, 
in  no  feminine  style.  Her  refined  and  rational  ideas  of  friend- 
ship, a  subject  she  delights  in,  show  a  soul  above  the  common 
level  of  mankind,  and  raise  my  desire  of  practising  what  is  thus 
nobly  described.  Though  I  know  nothing  of  Mrs.  Phillips, 
but  what  I  have  learned  from  her  poems,  I  am  persuaded  she 
was  not  less  discreet,  good  humored,  modest,  constant,  and  vir- 
tuous, than  ingenious. " 


PoMPEiA  Plotina,  a  Roman  lady,  who  married  Trajan 
when  he  was  only  a  private  man.  When  he  was  made  empe- 
ror, she  behaved  with  the  greatest  affability,  and  won  all  the 
hearts  of  Rome.  She  accompanied  her  husband  in  his  war  in 
the  east,  and  shared  all  the  privations  of  a  long  campaign.  He 
perished  in  the  undertaking ;  but  she  brought  home  his  ashes 
to  be  buried  in  Rome.  She  raised,  by  the  influence  she  pos- 
sessed, Adrian  to  the  throne,  who  permitted  her  to  live  in  the  city 
in  regal  state,  and  to  receive  from  all  the  functionaries  of  govern- 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  381 

ment  all  the  honor  and  reverence  due  a  queen.  She  had  a  well 
balanced  mind,  and  in  every  situation  discovered  the  finest 
talents  and  the  loftiest  virtues.  Rome  had,  at  this  period,  grown 
corrupt ;  but  she  did  not  share  in  its  profligacy.  When  every 
thing  around  her  seemed  conducive  to  break  down  the  virtue  of 
an  ordinary  mind,  she  rose  above  it. 


Mary  Sydney,  countess  of  Pembroke,  sister  of  Sir  Phil- 
lip Sydney,  married  Henry,  earl  of  Pembroke,  in  1576.  She 
had  received  a  liberal  education  and  was  distinguished  for  her 
highly  cultivated  mind,  and  superior  talents.  She  translated 
some  of  the  psalms  from  the  Hebrew  into  English  ;  and  from 
the  French,  "  A  Discourse  of  Life  and  Death,"  printed  in  1600, 
12mo.  She  also  wrote  "An  Elegy  on  her  Brother,"  a  "Pas- 
toral Dialogue  in  praise  of  queen  Elizabeth,"  and  other  poems. 
She  survived  her  husband  twenty  years,  and  having  lived  to  an 
advanced  age,  died,  September  25th,  1601.  She  was  interred 
with  the  Pembroke  family,  in  the  church  of  the  cathedral,  at 
Salisbury,  without  any  monument.  The  following  lines,  de- 
signed as  an  inscription  for  her  tomb,  were  written  by  the  famed 
Ben  Jonson : 

"Underneath  this  sable  herse. 
Lies  the  subject  of  all  verse  ; 
Sydney's  sister,  Pembroke's  mother. 
Death,  ere  thou  hast  killed  another 
Fair,  and  learned,  and  good  as  she, 
Time  shall  throw  a  dart  at  thee !" 


Pocahontas.  In  every  age  and  nation,  rare  instances  of 
genius  and  benevolence  have  been  found;  but  in  the  whole  range 
of  uneducated  nations,  no  female  can  be  produced  that  has  supe- 
rior claims  to  Pocahontas,  the  Indian  princess,  daughter  to  the 
sachem  of  Virginia,  Powhatan.  This  princess  was  born  some 
where  about  1594,  according  to  Captain  Smith's  conjecture,  for 
the  savages  have  no  methods  of  keeping  an  exact  register  of 
births,  or  deaths,  and  their  computations  by  seasons  or  moons 
were  seldom  accurate.  The  first  that  was  known  of  Pocahontas 
was  in  the  year  1607,  when  that  prince  of  chivalry.  Captain 


382  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

John  Smith,  whose  fame  had  filled  the  old  world,  came  to  this 
continent  for  adventures,  and  in  exploring  the  country  about 
James's  river,  was  taken  prisoner  by  some  of  the  warriors  of  the 
tribes  under  Powhatan,  and  brought  this  powerful  chief  to  be 
disposed  of  according  to  his  will  and  decree.  The  fame  and 
exploits  of  Smith  had  reached  Powhatan.  The  prowess  he 
had  shown  when  taken  was  sufficient  for  their  justification  in 
taking  him  off;  for  he  had  been  a  wonder  and  terror  to  all  his 
foes.  Powhatan  was  as  far  an  absolute  despot  as  can  exist  in  a 
state  of  nature.  But  the  chief  did  not  decide  alone  upon  Captain 
Smith's  fate ;  he  called  a  council  of  his  chiefs  upon  his  case. 
In  this  convention  the  most  wonderful  stories  of  the  white  man's 
prowess,  since  he  had  been  in  this  country,  were  told.  Smith 
understood  enough  of  the  Indian  language  to  comprehend  the 
course  of  the  debate,  and  made  up  his  mind  to  die.  Pocahontas 
was  a  listener  in  the  council.  Heroism  and  beauty  have  always 
an  efl^ect  on  the  female  heart ;  and  even  age  and  philosophy  are 
not  proof  against  these  magicians.  It  was  decided  that  he  must 
die,  as  being  too  formidable  a  foe  to  suffer  to  escape.  His  death 
was  to  be  by  beating  him  on  the  head  with  clubs  while  he  was 
in  a  recumbent  posture,  with  a  stone  for  a  pillow.  He  was  first 
bound,  and  then  thrown  down,  and  the  clubs  were  uplifted,  when 
Pocahontas,  then  a  mere  child,  rushed  forward  and  threw  her- 
self on  the  body  of  Smith,  and  protected  his  life  at  the  risk  of 
her  own.  The  fierce  savage  hearts  of  the  warriors  were  affect- 
ed, and  Smith  was  at  once  released,  and  became  an  inmate  for  a 
while,  of  the  wiofwam  of  Powhatan,  and  soon  afterwards  re- 
leased,  carrying  with  him  a  grateful  sense  of  the  services  ren- 
dered him  by  this  noble  daughter  of  the  forest.  Sometime  after 
this  the  Indians  became  alarmed,  by  witnessing  the  extraordi- 
nary feats  of  Smith,  and  laid  a  plan  to  get  him  into  their  power, 
under  the  pretence  of  wishing  an  interview  with  him  in  their 
territory.  But  Pocahontas,  knowing  the  designs  of  the  warriors, 
left  the  wigwam  after  her  father  had  gone  to  sleep,  and  ran  more 
than  nine  miles  through  the  woods  to  inform  her  friend  Captain 
Smith  of  the  dangers  that  awaited  him,  either  by  stratagem  or 
attack.     For   this   service,    Captain   Smith   offered   her   some 


FRMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  383 

trinkets ;  but  young  as  she  was,  and  no  doubt  had  a  natural 
fondness  for  finery,  which  belongs  to  her  age,  sex,  and  nation, 
yet  she  refused  to  accept  any  thing,  or  stop  to  refresh  herself  for 
fear  of  being  discovered  by  her  father,  or  his  wives.  She  re- 
turned before  any  one  awaked,  and  laid  herself  gently  in  her 
blanket  near  where  her  father  slept. 

For  several  years  she  continued  to  assist  the  whites  against 
her  father's  plots  for  their  destruction.  Although  she  was  a 
great  favorite  with  her  father,  he  was  so  incensed  against 
her  for  favoring  the  English,  that  he  sent  her  to  a  chief  of  a 
neighboring  tribe;  or,  perhaps,  he  feared  that  the  other  chiefs 
of  his  own  might,  in  Indian  style,  sacrifice  her  for  want  of  patri- 
otism; such  a  sacrifice  would  not  be  a  rare  occurrence  in  Indian 
history.  Here  she  remained  for  some  time,  when  Captain 
Argall  coming  up  the  Potomac,  and  finding  out  that  she  was 
with  Jopazaws,  tempted  the  deceitful  wretch  to  deliver  her  to 
him  as  a  prisoner,  for  the  bribe  of  a  brass  kettle,  of  which  the 
chief  had  become  enamored,  as  the  biggest  trinket  he  had  ever 
seen.  Argall  thought,  by  having  her  as  a  hostage,  he  should 
be  able  to  bring  Powhatan  to  terms  of  peace,  but  he  refused  to 
ransom  her  on  the  hard  terms  proposed  by  the  colonists.  He 
ofTered  five  hundred  bushels  of  corn  for  her  ransom,  which  was 
not  accepted.  She  was  well  treated  while  a  prisoner,  and  Mr. 
Thomas  Rolfe,  a  pious  young  man,  and  a  brave  officer,  under- 
took to  teach  her  the  English  language,  as  it  was  an  object  to 
have  an  influential  interpreter  among  them.  From  a  know- 
ledge of  what  she  had  done  for  his  friend  Smith,  and  from  find- 
ing her  intelligent,  brave,  and  noble,  he  became  attached  to  her, 
and  offered  her  his  hand.  This  was  communicated  to  Powha- 
tan, who  gave  his  consent  to  the  union,  and  she  was  married 
after  the  form  of  the  church  of  England,  in  presence  of  her 
uncle  and  two  brothers.  She  was  then, but  liule  past  seventeen 
years  of  age.  Powhatan  did  not  attend  the  marriage,  perhaps 
from  a  fear  that  some  treachery  might  be  in  the  business,  but 
finding  none,  he  extended  the  hand  of  friendship  to  his  new  allies 
as  long  as  he  lived. 

The  colony  was  now  relieved   from  war,  and  for  a  while* 


384  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

seemed  to  flourish.  Pocahontas  was  a  great  favorite  among  the 
colonists,  and  her  husband  having  business  in  England,  it  was 
thought  best  for  her  to  make  the  voyage  with  him.  She  took 
several  Indians  of  both  sexes  with  her,  such  a  number  as  her 
brothers  and  uncle  thought  belonged  to  her  lineal  honors.  In 
England  she  was  baptized  and  called  Rebecca.  She  was  there 
a  subject  of  great  curiosity,  and  was  treated  by  all  classes  as  a 
princess.  She  had  made  great  progress  in  the  English  studies, 
and  spoke  the  language  Avith  wonderful  fluency.  In  London 
she  was  visited  by  Captain  Smith,  whom  she  supposed  to  have 
been  dead.  When  she  first  beheld  him,  she  was  overcome  with 
emotion,  and  shrunk  from  him,  as  from  one  from  the  grave, 
hiding  her  face  with  her  hands.  An  explanation  soon  took 
place,  and  she  again  used  the  endearing  appellation  of  father,  in 
conversation  with  her  old  friend.  The  only  solution  of  this 
deception  is,  that  the  colonists  wished  to  bring  about  a  match 
between  her  and  some  one  of  their  number,  and  feared,  perhaps, 
that  she  cherished  too  fond  a  recollection  of  the  gallant  Smith, 
to  think  of  uniting  herself  to  another,  while  he  was  living. 

Captain  Smith  wrote  a  memorial  to  the  queen  in  her  behalf, 
setting  forth  in  a  free  and  noble  manner  the  services  of  the 
Indian  princess,  rendered  to  himself  and  to  the  colony;  and  the 
queen  became  her  personal  friend.  She  only  lived  long  enough, 
in  England  to  prove  to  them  that  genius  and  virtue  are  the  pro- 
ductions of  every  age  and  clime.  She  died  as  she  was  about  to 
embark  for  her  native  land,  at  Gravesend,  leaving  an  infant 
son.  She  was  deeply  lamented  in  England,  and  sincerely 
mourned  in  Virginia.  The  son  she  left,  was  educated  by  his 
uncle  in  England,  and  afterwards  became  a  worthy  and  highly 
respectable  character  in  Virginia,  from  whom  has  descended 
several  distinguished  families,  now  of  that  state.  Several  works 
of  fiction  have  been  founded  on  the  incidents  in  the  life  of 
Pocahontas,  but  they  have  not  been  successful.  The  whole  of 
her  story  surpasses  all  that  fiction  could  create,  and  the  embel- 
lishments were  not  wanted  along  side  of  the  simple  character  of 
this  child  of  nature.  A  thousand  artificial  flowers,  in  gilded 
vases,  have  not,  to  the  true  botanist,  the  beauty  and  perfume  of 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  85 

the  rose  in  the  garden  where  it  grew ;  nor  can  the  Geraldines 
and  Cherubines,  these  monsters  of  loveliness  in  fiction,  reach 
the  unsophisticated  elegance  of  character  displayed  in  Pocahon- 
tas. There  is  now  a  strong  sympathy  felt  and  acknowledged 
for  the  Indians.  Books  are  written  to  defend  them  from  many 
slanders  which  have  been  thrown  upon  them  by  former  histo- 
rians, and  when  this  race  has  become  nearly  extinct,  all  will 
feel  how  greatly  they  have  been  injured.  Portraits  of  some  of 
the  most  distinguished  warriors,  have  been  taken  by  artists  of 
talents.  One  of  the  sweetest  minstrels  of  our  land,  or  of  any 
other,  Mrs.  Sigourney,  has  asked  in  the  language  of  the  muse, 

"  How  can  the  red  men  be  forgotten,  while  so  many  of  our  states  and  ter- 
ritories, rivers  and  lakes,  are  designated  by  their  names  7" 

Ye  say  they  all  have  past  away, 

That  noble  race  and  brave, 
That  their  light  canoes  have  vanish' d 

From  off  the  crested  wave. 
That  'mid  the  forests  where  they  roam'd 

There  rings  no  hunter's  shout; 
But  their  name  is  on  your  waters, 

Ye  may  not  wash  it  out. 

Yes,  where  Ontario's  billow 

Like  ocean's  surge  is  curl'd. 
Where  strong  Niagara's  thunder  wake 

The  echo  of  the  world, 
Where  red  Missouri  bringeth 

Rich  tribute  from  the  west, 
And  Rappahannock  sweetly  sleeps 

On  green  Virginia's  breast. 

Ye  say  their  conelike  cabins 

That  cluster' d  o'er  the  vale,  v 

Have  disappear' d  like  wither' d  leaves 

Before  the  Autumn  gale  : 
But  their  memory  liveth  on  your  hills, 

Their  baptism  on  your  shore. 
Your  everlasting  rivers  speak 

Their  dialect  of  yore. 

Old  Massachusetts  wears  it 

Withm  her  lordly  crown. 
And  broad  Ohio  bears  it 

Amid  his  young  renown. 
33 


386  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Connecticut  hath  wreath'd  it 

Where  her  quiet  foliage  waves, 
^nd  bold  Kentucky  breath' d  it  hoarse, 
Through  all  her  ancient  caves. 

Wachuset  hides  their  lingering  voice 

Within  his  rocky  heart. 
And  Alleghany  graves  its  tone 

Throughout  his  lofty  chart. 
Monadnock  on  his  forehead  hoar 

Doth  seal  the  sacred  trust, 
Your  mountains  build  their  monumen 

Though  ye  give  the  winds  their  dust. 

Ye  deem  those  red-brow'd  brethren 

The  insects  of  an  hour, 
Forgotten  and  despis'd  amid 

The  regions  of  their  power. 
Ye  drive  them  from  their  father's  lands, 

Ye  break  of  faith  the  seal. 
But  can  ye  from  the  Court  of  Heaven 

Exclude  their  last  appeal  1 

Ye  see  their  unresisting  tribes     ^ 

With  toil-worn  step  and  slow. 
Onward  through  trackless  deserts  press, 

A  caravan  of  wo. 
Think  ye  the  Eternal's  ear  is  deaf  7 

His  sleepless  vision  dim  7 
Think  ye  the  soul's  blood  may  not  cry 

From  that  far  land  to  Him  1 


Sarah  Roberts  w^s  born  at  Newburyport,  a  commercial 
town  on  the  banlis  of  the  Merrimack,  in  the  state  of  Massachu- 
setts, about  the  year  1760.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  mer- 
chant of  respectability,  who  gave  his  daughters  every  advantage 
of  instruction  within  his  reach,  at  that  period.  She  was  early 
distinguished  for  high  attainments  and  extraordinary  fine  sense. 
Her  personal  charms  were  of  a  superior  order.  She  entered  as 
the  most  attractive  object  of  the  genteel  circle  in  which  she 
moved.  Her  hand  was  sought  by  those,  who,  from  birth,  fortune, 
and  education,  had,  as  the  world  goes,  a  right  to  aspire  to  that 
honor;  but  she  never  gave  any  one  the  slightest  encouragement. 
She  was  affable  to  all  her  acquaintances,  but  smiled  on  no  one 
in  particular.  She,  early  in  life,  made  up  her  mind  to  live  in  ♦ 
single  blessedness.      For   several  years  she  was   assailed   by 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  387 

suitors,  even  after  her  determination  to  live  single  had  become 
known,  each  one  thinking-  that  he  might  win  a  heart  inacces- 
sible to  others.  She  retained  her  beauty  long  past  the  age  of 
high  personal  attractions  among  females  generally.  Her  man- 
ners were  without  one  particle  of  that  staidness,  so  often  seen  in 
single  women,  who  have  seen  two  or  more  generations  of  females 
pass  from  the  nursery  and  school-room  to  the  bonds  of  Hymen. 
She  had  none  of  that  weakness  of  concealing  her  age,  often 
found,  even  among  those  otherwise  sensible  women.  When  I 
knew  her,  she  was  near  forty  years  of  age,  then  lovely  in  her 
person,  and  the  centre  of  attention  to  those  who  delighted  more 
in  conversation,  or  in  an  intellectual  banquet,  than  in  the  dance. 
She  talked  of  the  past,  without  a  sigh ;  of  the  present,  as  though 
she  had  just  come  forward  into  life,  as  far  as  the  relish  of  society 
was  concerned;  and  of  the  future,  without  even  dreading  the 
thought  of  old  age.  She  looked  upon  life  as  a  garden,  where 
the  blossoms  and  the  fruit  follow  in  their  seasons,  and  that  each 
season  had  its  pleasures.  The  tree  that  glittered  with  ten  thou- 
sand gems  of  frost-work,  was  to  her  as  lovely  and  delightful  as 
it  was  when  it  put  out  its  leaves  and  flowers  in  vernal  beauty. 

She  admired  the  character  of  the  Roman  vestals,  and  she  had 
kept,  without  parade  or  vanity,  the  model  in  her  mind,  and  was 
determined  to  follow  the  example.  Her  virtue  was  something 
more  than  of  Roman  firmness ;  for  she  was  a  most  devout  and 
warm  hearted  Christian.  She  had  no  opportunity  to  test  her 
philosophy  in  old  age,  for  before  a  wrinkle  had  appeared,  or  a 
chill  had  fallen  upon  her  heart,  or  a  gray  hair  had  asked  con- 
cealment, she  was  summoned  to  another  world  ;  and  she  left  this, 
without  a  single  wish  to  prolong  her  stay.  Her  mind  was  firmly 
fixed  on  a  higher  region,  and  she  was  anxious  to  be  gone.  The 
poor  mourned  her  loss,  for  she  did  them  much  good  at  the  most 
proper  time,  and  in  the  sweetest  manner.  This  is  the  only 
record,  humble  as  it  is,  of  one  so  exalted  in  talents,  in  virtue,  and 
accomplishments. 

Martha  Laurens  Ramsay,  was  born  in  Charleston,  South 
Carolina,  on  the  third  of  November,  1 759.    She  was  the  daughter 


388  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

of  Henry  Laurens,  a  name  familiar  to  every  one  who  has  read 
of  our  struggle  for  independence. 

In  the  first  year  of  her  life  she  had  the  small  pox  so  severely, 
that  she  was  supposed  to  be  dead,  and  as  such  was  actually  laid 
out  preparatory  to  her  funeral.  This  was  done  under  an  open 
window,  instead  of  the  close  room  in  which  she  had  been  kept, 
according  to  the  absurd  mode  of  treating  the  small  pox  in  1760. 
Dr.  Moultrie,  coming  in  at  this  crisis,  pronounced  her  to  be  still 
alive,  probably  recalled  to  life  by  the  fresh  air  of  the  open  win- 
dow. Under  other  circumstances  she  probably  would  have 
soon  been  buried,  as  it  was  common  in  that  year  of  extensive 
mortality,  to  bury  those  who  died  of  the  small  pox  in  the  greatest 
haste.  A  valuable  life  was  thus  providentially  saved  for  future 
usefulness. 

Martha  Laurens  early  discovered  a  great  capacity  and  eager- 
ness for  learning.  In  the  course  of  her  third  year  she  could 
readily  read  any  book,  and,  what  is  extraordinary,  in  an  invert- 
ed position,  without  any  difficulty.  In  youth  her  vivacity  and 
spirits  were  exuberant.  Feats  of  activity,  though  attended  with 
personal  danger,  were  to  her  familiar ;  great  exertions  of  bodily 
labor,  romantic  projects,  excesses  of  the  wildest  play,  were  pre- 
ferred to  stagnant  life ;  but  from  all  these  she  could  be  turned 
off  in  a  moment  to  serious  business.  As  she  grew  up,  the  same 
activity  was  exerted  in  acquiring  the  useful  and  ornamental 
parts  of  female  education.  She  very  soon  acquired  a  grammati- 
cal knowledge  of  the  French  language ;  a  considerable  eminence 
in  reading,  writing,  arithmetic,  English  grammar,  geography, 
and  the  use  of  the  globes.  She  even  acquired  a  considerable 
acquaintance  with  geometry  and  mathematical  science.  At  the 
same  time  she  was  indefatigable  in  cultivating  an  acquaintance 
with  books,  and,  by  means  of  abridging,  transcribing,  and  com- 
mitting to  memory,  was  very  successful  in  retaining  much  of 
what  she  read.  In  accomplishments  and  the  ornamental  parts 
of  education  she  excelled,  and  in  the  exercise  of  them  took  great 
delight. 

In  the  eleventh  year  of  her  age  she  sustained  an  immense 
loss  by  the  death  of  her  excellent  mother ;  but  this  was  in  some 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  389 

measure  made  up  by  the  maternal  care  of  her  good  aunt,  Mary 
Laurens,  the  wife  of  James  Laurens,  whose  sound  judgment, 
refined  manners,  and  eminent  piety,  well  fitted  her  for  training 
up  her  orphan  niece  for  both  worlds.  To  her  care,  and  that  of 
his  brother,  Henry  Laurens  committed  the  charge  of  his  two 
daughters,  while  he  went  to  superintend  the  education  of  his 
sons  in  Europe.  There  he  continued  till  the  end  of  the  year 
1774,  when  love  for  his  country  brought  him  back  to  its  defence 
against  the  aggressions  of  Britain.  Thus,  while  providence 
deprived  Miss  Laurens  of  the  instructions  and  example  of  her 
natural  mother,  it  raised  up  another  friend  who  performed  the 
maternal  duties  with  equal  capacity,  fidelity,  and  affection. 
Though  she  was  deprived  of  the  company  of  her  wise  and  vir- 
tuous father,  for  almost  the  whole  of  that  interesting  period, 
which  extended  from  the  eleventh  to  the  twenty-second  year  of 
her  age,  she  continued  to  receive  letters  from  him.  From  1771 
till  1775,  his  paternal  instructions,  communicated  by  letter,  were 
calculated  to  forward  the  virtuous  education  of  a  beloved  daugh- 
ter, growing  up  with  fair  prospects  of  an  ample  fortune;  but  in 
and  after  1775,  he  warned  her  of  the  probability  that  his  estate 
would  be  forfeited,  and  that  her  father  and  brother  in  arms  would 
lose  their  lives,  and  that  she  must  prepare  to  maintain  herself 
by  her  own  exertions.  These  anticipations  were  not  wholly 
realized ;  but  the  expectation  of  them  had  a  direct  tendency  to 
assist  in  forming  the  solid  education  of  the  person  to  whom  they 
were  addressed. 

Miss  Laurens,  in  her  twelfth  year,  began  to  be  the  subject  of 
serious  religious  impressions.  She  was  well  instructed  in  the 
great  gospel  plan  of  salvation,  by  the  atoning  sacrifice  of  Jesus 
Christ,  for  the  sins  of  the  world.  In  her  fifteenth  year,  in  con- 
formity to  the  advice  of  Dr.  Doddridge,  and  in  a  form  of  words 
recommended  by  him,  she  prepared  and  solemnly  executed  an 
instrument  of  writing,  called  by  her  with  great  propriety,  "  A 
self  dedication  and  solemn  covenant  with  God."  In  this,  after 
a  suitable  introduction,  she  presents  before  her  maker  the  whole 
frame  of  her  nature,  all  the  faculties  of  her  mind,  and  all  the 

members  of  her  body,  as  a  living  sacrifice,  holy  and  acceptable 

33* 


390  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

to  God.  And  not  only  consecrates  all  that  she  was,  and  all 
that  she  had  to  his  service,  but  humbly  resigns  to  his  heavenly 
will,  all  that  she  called  hers,  to  be  disposed  of  as  he  pleased. 
It  is  believed  that  she  kept  the  transaction  secret  from  all  the 
world,  and  that  the  paper  in  question,  was  never  seen  by  any 
human  being  before  her  death.  At  the  time  of  its  execution, 
she  was  exactly  fourteen  years  and  seven  weeks  old,  and  had 
as  brilliant  prospects  before  her  as  any  of  her  sex  in  Carolina. 
The  only  serious  affliction  she  had  then  met  with,  was  the  loss 
of  her  mother.  This  had  taken  place  three  years  and  seven 
months  before,  and  the  keen  sensation  occasioned  thereby  must, 
in  the  ordinary  course  of  things,  have  been  nearly  worn  off  by 
time.  The  engagements  thus  entered  into  by  Miss  Laurens, 
were  in  unison  with  her  subsequent  conduct  through  life.  Of 
the  sincerity  of  the  transaction,  on  her  part,  on  a  view  of  all  its 
circumstances,  no  doubt  can  exist. 

In  the  year  1775,  James  Laurens,  his  wife,  and  two  neices, 
Martha  Laurens,  and  Mary  Eleanor  Laurens,  afterwards  the 
wife  of  Charles  Pinckney,  went  to  England.  Martha  Laurens 
was  received  on  her  landing,  by  her  elder  brother,  John  Laurens, 
from  whom  she  had  been  for  some  years  separated.  Being  older, 
he  had  taken  great  delight  in  forwarding  her  education,  and 
particularly,  in  forming  her  mind  to  be  superior  to  the  common 
accidents  of  life,  and  the  groundless  fears  of  some  of  her  sex. 
To  ascertain  whether  his  labors  had  been  successful,  or  not,  he 
bribed  the  postillion  to  drive  very  rapidly,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
without  discovering  his  views,  narrowly  watched  her  counte- 
nance, to  observe  whether  there  were  any  changes  in  it  expres- 
sive of  womanish  fears,  at  the  novel  scene,  so  totally  different, 
from  all  her  former  traveling,  in  the  low,  flat,  stoneless  country 
of  Carolina.  On  the  termination  of  the  experiment  to  his  satis- 
faction, he  announced  to  his  unsuspecting  sister,  his  congratula- 
tions that  "  he  had  found  her  the  same  Spartan  girl  he  had  left 
her." 

During  the  first  years  of  the  American  revolution,  and  for  a 
short  period  after  its  termination,^Miss  Laurens  resided  in  various 
parts  of  England,  improving  her  mind,  and  preparing  herself 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  391 

for  meeting  the  contemplated  loss  of  her  father,  brother,  and 
fortune,  by  the  events  of  the  war,  and  at  the  same  time  doing 
every  ofBce  of  love  to  her  afflicted  uncle.  She  afterwards  con- 
tinued the  same  kind  services  to  him  for  several  years  in  France. 
In  that  country,  in  the  year  1784,  he  was  released  by  death,  from 
a  long  protracted  painful  complaint.  Mr.  James  Laurens,  hav- 
ing no  children  of  his  own,  proposed  to  leave  the  bulk  of  his 
estate  to  Miss  Laurens,  his  faithful  nurse,  and  affectionate  niece; 
but  she  peremptorily  refused  the  acceptance  thereof  to  the  dete- 
rioration of  the  reasonable  expectations  of  her  brother  and  sister. 
The  will  Avas  framed  agreeably  to  her  Avishes ;  but  the  testator, 
in  addition  to  a  child's  share,  left  her  a  specific  legacy  of  five 
hundred  pounds  sterling,  declared  in  his  will  to  be  "  a  token  of 
his  friendship  for  her  ;  and  as  an  acknowledgment  for  the  servi- 
ces she  had  rendered  him,  and  his  family,  and  for  her  good  and 
gentle  conduct  on  all  occasions." 

While  Miss  Laurens  resided  in  England,  she  formed  an  ac- 
quaintance with  many  persons  eminent  for  their  piety,  and  par- 
ticularly with  the  countess  of  Huntingdon.  She  highly  prized 
the  company  of  such  persons,  and  from  them  received  both 
pleasure  and  improvement. 

Their  situation  in  England,  on  account  of  the  war,  being  un- 
comfortable, they  passed  over  to  France,  and  lived  there  until 
the  re-establishment  of  peace.  During  the  greatest  part  of  this 
period,  of  six  or  seven  years,  and  the  whole  of  the  time  of  their 
residence  in  England,  they  were  almost  wholly  cut  off  from 
their  usual  means  of  support,  for  their  property  was  in  America, 
three  thousand  miles  distant.  War  raged,  and  the  Atlantic 
ocean  rolled  between  them  and  it.  In  this  forlorn  situation., 
they  found  ample  occasion  for  all  the  comfort  of  that  religion 
which  they  professed.  The  greatest  econom}!-  was  necessary. 
A  residence  in  Vigan  was  preferred,  on  account  of  the  cheap- 
ness of  living.  There  Miss  Laurens  spent  her  time  profitably. 
She  had  many  opportunities  of  improving  her  mind,  by  reading 
and  conversation,  w^hich  she  diligently  improved.  She  and  the 
family  received  great  civilities  from  the  French.  Love  to  their 
common  father  in  heaven,  and  love  and  harmony  among  them- 


392  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

selves,  sweetened  their  frugal  repast,  and  took  away  the  bitter- 
ness of  the  cup  of  affliction,  from  which  they  were  obliged  deeply 
to  drink. 

In  the  year  1780,  Miss  Laurens'  father  was  taken  a  prisoner, 
and  confined,  on  a  charge  of  high  treason,  in  the  tower  of  Lon- 
don, and  his  life  staked  on  the  success  of  the  American  revolu- 
tion. In  due  time  the  clouds  of  adversity  began  to  disperse ; 
the  prospects  of  America  brightened.  Her  father  was  dis- 
charged from  confinement,  and  after  a  separation  of  seven  years, 
she  joined  him  in  Paris,  and  presided  over  his  domestic  concerns, 
while  he  assisted  in  the  negotiations  which  terminated  in  peace 
and  the  acknowledged  independence  of  the  United  States.  The 
transition  from  a  remote  country  place,  to  the  head  of  a  table  of 
a  minister  plenipotentiary,  in  the  metropolis  of  France,  was 
great  and  sudden. 

About  this  time.  Miss  Laurens  received  from  her  father,  a 
present  of  five  hundred  guineas.  Of  this,  she  only  appropriated 
a  small  part  to  her  own  use.  With  the  surplus  she  purchased 
one  hundred  French  testaments,  which  was  the  whole  number 
at  market,  gave  them  away  among  the  poor,  in  and  near  Vigan ; 
and  also  established  a  school  for  the  instruction  of  youth  in  the 
same  place,  engaged  a  master  to  preside  over  it,  and  constituted 
a  fund  to  defray  its  annual  expenses. 

The  restoration  of  peace  to  Carolina,  in  1783,  pointed  out  the 
propriety  of  the  return  of  the  inhabitants.  Miss  Laurens,  with 
her  aunt  and  sister,  arrived  in  Charleston,  in  1785,  after  a  long 
absence.  Their  joy,  at  finding  their  native  country  at  peace,  and 
raised  from  the  humble  rank  of  a  dependent  colony  to  that  of  an 
independent  state,  was  inexpressible.  Now,  for  the  first  time, 
after  leading  an  unsettled  life  for  ten  years,  they  found  them- 
selves at  home.  On  the  twenty-third  of  January,  1787,  Miss 
Laurens  was  married  to  Dr.  David  Ramsay,  well  known  in  the 
literary  world,  as  a  historian  and  biographer.  In  the  course 
of  the  ensuing  sixteen  years,  Mrs.  Ramsay  became  the  mother 
of  eleven  children,  eight  of  whom  survived  her.  She  now  dis- 
played the  same  virtuous  habits,  and  the  same  energy  of  charac- 
ter, in  taking  care  of  her  children,  in  promoting  her  husband's 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY,  393 

nappiness,  and  making  a  well  ordered  home  his  chief  delight, 
that  had  formerly  distinguished  Miss  Laurens  in  acquiring  useful 
knowledge,  and  discharging  the  duties  of  a  daughter,  a  sister, 
and  niece.  Soon  after  she  became  a  mother,  she  studied  with 
deep  interest  most  of  the  esteemed  practical  treatises  on  educa- 
tion, both  in  French  and  English,  that  she  might  be  better  in- 
formed of  the  nature  and  extent  of  her  new  duties.  She  gave 
a  decided  preference  to  the  writings  of  Mr.  Locke,  and  Dr.  With- 
erspoon,  on  that  subject.  The  object  she  proposed  to  herself 
was,  to  obtain  for  her  children,  health  of  body,  and  a  well  regu- 
lated mind.  To  secure  the  former,  they  were  from  their  birth, 
washed  in  cold  water,  and  throughout  the  whole  period  of  infancy, 
j)ermitted  to  expose  themselves,  with  uncovered  feet,  to  wet  and 
cold,  and  all  the  varieties  and  sudden  changes  of  Carolina 
weather.  To  favor  the  latter,  they  were  taught  to  curb  their 
tempers ;  to  subject  their  passions  to  the  supreme  dominion  of 
reason  and  religion  ;  to  practice  self  denial ;  to  bear  disappoint- 
ments ;  and  to  resist  the  importunity  of  present  pleasure  and 
pain,  for  the  sake  of  what  reason  pronounces  fit  to  be  done,  or 
borne.  She  nursed  all  her  children  herself;  watched  over  them 
by  night  and  day ;  and  clung  to  them  every  moment  of  sickness 
or  pain.  She  early  taught  them  to  read  their  bibles.  That  this 
might  be  done  pleasantly,  she  connected  with  it,  Mrs.  Trimmer's 
prints  of  scripture  history ;  that  it  might  be  done  with  under- 
standing, she  made  them  read,  in  connection  with  their  bibles, 
Watts'  short  view  of  the  whole  scripture  history,  and  as  they 
advanced  to  a  proper  age,  Newton  on  the  prophecies ;  and  such 
books,  as  connected  profane  history  with  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments ;  so  that  the  bible,  though  written  in  periods  widely 
remote  from  each  other,  might  appear  to  them  a  uniform,  har- 
monious system  of  divine  truth.  Of  this  blessed  book,  she  en- 
joined them  daily  to  read  a  portion,  and  to  prize  it  as  the  standard 
of  faith  and  practice ;  as  a  communication  from  heaven  on  eternal 
concerns  ;  as  the  word  of  God  pointing  out  the  only  way  to  sal- 
vation ;  as  a  letter  of  love  sent  from  their  heavenly  Father  to 
direct  their  wandering  feet  to  the  paths  of  truth  and  happiness. 
From  it  she  was  now  taught  "  that  foolishness  is  bound  in  the 


394  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

heart  of  a  child,  but  the  rod  of  correction  shall  drive  it  far  from 
him."  She  therefore,  on  proper  occasions  used  the  rod,  but  al- 
ways with  discretion  and  judgment,  sometimes  with  prayer,  often 
with  tears,  but  never  with  anger.  As  her  children  advanced  in 
years,  she  conducted  her  sons  through  a  course  of  education 
fitting  them  to  enter  college,  and  with  the  help  of  her  tried  and 
accomplished  friend,  Miss  Futerell,  she  carried  her  daughters,  at 
home,  through  the  several  studies  taught  in  boarding  schools. 

She  was  a  constant  and  devout  attendant  on  divine  service ; 
steadily  recorded  the  text,  and  occasionally  made  a  short  analy- 
sis of  the  sermon.  She  generally  spent  a  considerable  part  of 
the  intervals  of  public  worship,  in  catechising  and  instructing 
her  children  and  servants ;  in  reading  with  them  the  bible  and 
other  good  books. 

Mrs.  Ramsay  was  uncommonly  economical  of  her  time.  She 
suffered  none  of  it  to  be  wasted.  By  rising  early  she  secured 
the  most  valuable  portion  of  it  for  devotion  and  business.  A 
reasonable  part  of  every  day  was  spent  in  religious  exercises ; 
much  in  reading  well  chosen  books,  and  also  in  copying  original 
papers  for  her  father  and  husband ;  much  in  working  for  the 
accomodation  of  her  family;  and  much  in  teaching  her  children, 
and  forming  their  minds  to  virtue  and  knowledge ;  and  often  a 
considerable  part  of  it  in  writing  letters  to  her  absent  friends. 
In  these  she  was  grave  or  gay  as  the  subject  required.  In 
writing  letters  of  consolation,  to  persons  in  affliction,  she  excelled. 
In  other  cases,  where  fancy  was  admissable,  the  sprightliness 
of  her  imagination  gave  a  brilliancy  to  trifles,  which  imparted 
to  them  an  interest  of  which  they  seemed  hardly  susceptible. 
With  a  few  exceptions,  she  declined  all  visits  during  the  day,  as 
destructive  of  her  plans  for  making  every  hour  turn  to  the  best 
account.  When  the  business  of  the  day  was  ended,  she  indulged 
her  social  habits.  The  number  of  books  she  read  was  aston- 
ishingly great,  and  her  memory  uncommonly  strong  in  retaining 
the  substance  of  their  contents.  She  could  recite  nearly  the 
whole  of  Youngs'  Night  Thoughts  without  book.  The  Latin 
and  Greek  classics  she  read  in  translations,  at  a  very  early 
period.     By  catching  from  her  brother,  by  studying  occasionally 


FEMALE  BIOORAPHV.  S95 

his  Latin  grammar  and  books ;  and  by  the  aid  of  an  accurate 
knowledge  of  the  French  language,  and  the  general  principles 
of  grammar,  as  applied  to  the  English  and  French  languages, 
she  laid  such  a  foundation,  that  when  she  became  the  mother 
of  children,  for  their  sakes  she  ran  over  the  Latin  and  Greek 
classics,  in  the  short  method  recommended  by  Mr.  Locke,  so  as 
to  make  her  a  profitable  instructor  to  them,  in  these  languages. 
With  the  same  views  she  began,  and  to  a  considerable  extent 
prosecuted  the  study  of  botany.  From  the  same  versatility  of 
genius,  and  habits  of  industry,  after  she  was  married,  she  read 
with  attention,  nxost  of  the  practical  writers  on  medicine,  that 
are  usually  put  into  the  hands  of  medical  students ;  and  studied 
with  particular  interest,  such  of  them,  as  treat  of  the  diseases  of 
women  and  children.  In  times  of  general  sickness,  when  her 
husband  was  full  of  business,  she  frequently  shortened  his  labor, 
in  studying  cases  of  peculiar  difficulty,  by  running  over  his 
books,  and  finding  similar  cases:  and  collecting  in  one  view, 
for  his  inspection,  the  opinions  and  practice  of  standard  medical 
authors,  on  diseases  of  the  same  nature.  She  was  familiar  with 
most  of  the  modern  works  of  genius,  taste,  and  imagination, 
written  in  the  English  and  French  languages,  and  enjoyed 
them.  In  solid  learning  she  was  not  deficient.  Locke's  Essays 
on  the  Human  Understanding,  Watts'  Logic,  Improvement  of 
the  Mind,  Philosophical  Essays,  and  other  works  of  science, 
were  the  studies  of  her  youth.  To  these,  as  she  grew  up,  she 
added  natural  and  civil  history,  biography,  astronomy,  chronol- 
ogy, philosophy,  voyages,  travels,  &c.  In  divinity,  she  read 
much  of  what  was  practical,  but  rarely  looked  into  any  thing 
that  was  controversial. 

From  the  bible  she  was  taught,  "  Fathers  provoke  not  your 
children  to  wrath,  lest  they  be  discouraged."  Under  this  general 
head  she  considered,  as  forbidden  unnecessary  severity,  sar- 
casms, and  all  taunting,  harsh,  and  unkind  language,  over- 
bearing conduct,  high  toned  claims  of  superiority,  capricious  or 
whimsical  exertions  of  authority,  and  several  other  particulars, 
calculated  to  irritate  children  or  fill  them  w^ith  terror.  On  the 
other  hand,  she  considered  parents  as  required  by  this  precept,  to 


396  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

curb  their  own  tempers,  to  bridle  their  passions,  to  make  proper 
allowances  for  the  indiscretions  and  follies  of  youth,  and  to  be- 
have towards  their  offspring  in  the  most  conciliatory  manner,  so 
as  to  secure  their  love  and  affection  on  the  score  of  gratitude. 
These,  and  many  other  rules  of  conduct  she  drew  from  the  bible, 
and  happy  would  it  be  for  society,  if  all  parents  used  their  bibles 
for  similar  purposes. 

For  several  of  the  last  years  of  her  life,  in  addition  to  long 
continued  and  frequent  attacks  of  painful  diseases,  sufficient  to 
have  laid  by  a  less  active  person,  she  had  to  struggle  with  re- 
stricted circumstances.  From  the  first  moment  of  her  last  sick- 
ness, she  had  a  presentiment  that  she  would  not  survive  it.  This 
gave  her  no  alarm.  She  made  preparations  for,  and  arranged  the 
circumstances  of  her  funeral,  with  the  same  calmness  and  self- 
possession  that  she  would  have  prepared  for  a  journey  or  voy- 
age, in  the  days  of  her  best  health.  She  directed  that  her 
funeral  should  be  private,  her  coffin  plain,  and  without  a  plate ; 
that  the  services  should  be  performed  at  her  own  house,  before 
a  few  of  her  particular  friends.  Her  coffin  was  accordingly 
made  of  Carolina  cedar.  About  four  o'clock,  P.  M.,  June  10th, 
1811,  she  asked  her  husband  and  children  if  they  were  willing 
to  give  her  up.  They  evaded  the  question,  but  she  informed 
them  in  direct  terms,  that  God  had  now  made  her  entirely  wil- 
ling to  give  them  all  up,  and  in  about  an  hour  after  expired. 


Anne  Rahan,  sister  of  the  duke  de  Rahan,  deserves  to  be 
mentioned  as  a  zealous  supporter  of  the  reformed  religion  during 
the  civil  wars,  in  which  period  she  sustained,  with  great  cour- 
age, the  hardships  of  the  seige  of  Rochelle,  and,  with  her 
mother,  refused  to  be  comprehended  in  the  capitulation,  choosing 
rather  to  remain  a  prisoner  of  war.  She  was  celebrated  for  piety 
and  courage,  and  respected  for  her  learning  and  capacity.  She 
was  also  admired  for  her  poetical  talents;  particularly  for  a  poem 
written  on  the  death  of  Henry  IV.,  of  France.  She  studied  the 
Old  Testament  in  the  original  language,  and  used,  in  her  devo- 
tions, the  Hebrew  psalms.  She  died  unmarried,  September  20th, 
1646,  at  Paris,  in  the  sixty -second  year  of  her  age. 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  397 

Susanna  Rowson,  was  the  daughter  ofWilliam  Haswell,  who 
was  an  officer  in  the  British  navy.     Her  mother's  maiden  name 
was  Musgrove — this  lady  died  young,  while  the  subject  of  this 
memoir  was  quite  a  child.     Mr.  Haswell  being  on  the  New- 
England  station,  became  acquainted  with  a  Miss  Woodward,  a 
native  of  Massachusetts,  and  married  her.     After  this  connection, 
Mr.  Haswell  came  and  resided,  a  number  of  years,  at  Nantasket, 
Massachusetts,  with  his  second  wife.     These  were  unfortunate 
shores  for  him — for  on  his  arival  on  this  coast,  which  was  in 
the  winter  of  1769,  with  his  daughter,  then  but  seven  years  old, 
and  her  nurse,  the  vessel  was  cast  av/ay  on  the  back  of  Lo veil's 
Island,  and  they  suffered  great  hardships,  for  two  days,  on  the 
wreck.     The  family   resided  at  Nantasket  when  the  revolu- 
tionary contest  came  on,  when,  in  accordance  with  the  cautious 
policy  of  that  day,   Mr.  Haswell,  a  half  pay  officer,   was,  of 
course,  considered  a  prisoner  of  war,  and  sent  into  the  country 
for  safe  keeping ;  but  subsequently  to  Halifax,  by  cartel.     This 
officer  had  several  sons,  two  of  whom  have  been  gallant  officers 
in  the  naval  service  of  the  United  States,  and  both  were  distin- 
guished in  the  fight  of  the  Le  Berceau,  and  in  some  other  en- 
gagements of  that  short  war.     Susanna  Haswell  was  married 
to  Mr.  William  Rowson,  in  the  year  1786,  in  London.     While 
she  resided  in  Massachusetts,  she  had  frequent  opportunities 
of  seeing    and  conversing  with  that  great   statesman,  orator, 
and  lawyer,  James  Otis,  then  decidedly  the  most  influential  man 
in  America.     Much  pains  had  been  bestowed  on  her  education^ 
and  this  learned  and  enthusiastic  scholar  was  deligfhted  with 
her  early  display  of  talents,  and  called  her  his  little  pupii.     'inis 
intimacy  she  recollected  with  pleasure  and  pride,  in  every  period 
of  her  life.     In  the  same  year  of  her  marriage,  she  commenced 
author,  and  published  her  first  work,  "  Victoria,"  which  was 
dedicated,  by  permission,  to  the  duchess  of  Devonshire,  then 
the  most  brilliant  star  in  the  circles  of  taste  and  fashion.     lier 
grace  was  a  genius,  a  beauty,  a  politician,  and  a  writer  of  con- 
siderable distinction ;  but  her  affability  and  kindness,  surpassed 
even  her  charms  and  accomplishments.     This  queen  of  love 

was  not  only  empress  of  the  fashionable  world,  but  had  almo.'i* 

34 


398  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

the  same  unbounded  influence  among  literary  men.  The  smile 
of  Georgiana  awakened  hopes  in  the  bosom  of  despondency,  and 
her  word  obtained  favor  for  whom  it  was  spoken,  even  among 
her  political  enemies.  The  constancy  of  her  friendship  falsified 
the  tales  of  the  capriciousness  of  beauty ;  and  her  liberality  and 
condescension  as  a  patroness,  and  her  virtues  as  a  parent,  dis- 
armed envy  of  his  poisoned  shaft.  The  intrinsic  merit  of 
"  Victoria,"  and  the  kindness  of  her  who  had  become  the  friend 
of  the  author,  secured  it  a  flattering  reception.  The  duchess, 
among  other  acts  of  kindness  to  Mrs.  Rowson,  introduced  her 
to  the  prince  of  Wales ;  and  she  obtained,  by  this  interview,  a 
pension  for  her  father. 

Mrs.  Rowson's  next  work  was  "  Mary,  or  the  Test  of  Honor." 
This  was  not  entirely  original,  but  was  taken,  in  part,  by  her 
from  a  manuscript,  furnished  by  a  bookseller.  This  book  she 
never  claimed  as  her  work.  Then  followed  "  A  trip  to  Parnas- 
sus," "  A  Critique  on  Authors  and  Performers ;"  and  then, 
"Fille  de  Chambre,"  "  Inquisitor,"  "Montoria,"  and  "  Charlotte 
Temple,  or  a  tale  of  truth."  This  last  work  has  had  the  merit 
of  the  most  extensive  sale,  in  this  country,  of  any  one  ever  pub- 
lished here.  More  than  twenty-five  thousand  copies  of  it  were 
sold  in  a  few  years.  Mrs.  Rowson  lately  commenced  writing  a 
sequel  to  this  book,  but  did  not  finish  it.  In  1793,  she  returned 
to  this  country,  and  was  engaged  in  the  Philadelphia  theatrical 
company  for  three  years.  Notwithstanding  her  arduous  duties 
on  the  stage,  her  pen  was  not  idle.  x4t  this  time  she  wrote  the 
"  Trials  of  the  Heart,"  a  very  voluminous  work ;  "  Slaves  in 
Algiers,"  an  opera ;  "  The  Volunteers,"  a  farce,  after  the  whis- 
key insurrection  in  Pennsylvania ;  and  the  "  Female  Patriot." 
In  1795,  while  in  Baltimore,  she  wrote  a  poetical  address  to  the 
army  of  the  United  States,  called  the  "  Standard  of  Liberty," 
which  was  recited  by  Mrs.  Whitlock  from  the  stage,  when  all 
the  uniform  companies  of  the  city  attended,  in  full  dress,  with 
side  arms,  to  hear  it.  The  address,  it  hardly  need  be  stated, 
when  Mrs.  Whitlock' s  name  is  mentioned,  was  given  with  great 
effect,  and  added  fresh  laurels  to  the  writer  and  speaker.  Mrs. 
Rowson  came  to  Boston  in  1796,  and  was  engaged  for  that  year 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  399 

at  the  Federal  street  theatre ;  and  for  her  benefit,  produced  the 
comedy  of  "  Americans  in  England."  Here  closed  her  dramatic 
labors ;  after  that,  she  never  attempted  any  thing  for  the  stage, 
except,  perhaps,  a  song  or  an  ode.  At  the  close  of  her  en- 
gagement, she  left  the  stage  forever,  and  opened  a  school  for 
young  ladies,  without  any  promises  of  patronage  or  assistance. 
At  the  commencement  of  her  undertaking,  she  had  but  one 
scholar;  but  before  the  end  of  the  year,  she  had  a  hundred, 
and  many  more  were  anxious  to  be  admitted. 

From  this  place,  she  went  to  Medford,  and  opened  an  academy 
for  boarding  and  instructing  young  ladies.  This  seminary  was 
thronged  from  every  quarter,  not  only  of  our  own  country,  but 
from  Newfoundland,  Jamaica,  New  Providence,  and  more  dis- 
tant places.  From  Medford,  she  removed  to  Newton,  about  the 
same  distance  from  Boston,  and  continued  her  school  until  she 
removed  to  Boston  ;  in  every  place  she  had  as  many  scholars  as 
she  could  take.  During  these  laborious  duties,  she  found  time 
to  write  several  volumes  ;  "  Reuben  and  Rachel,"  a  novel,  the 
scene  of  which  is  laid  in  this  country.  She  had  also  compiled 
a  "  Dictionary;"  two  systems  of  "  Geography ;"  "  A  present  for 
young  ladies,"  being  a  collection  of  various  exercises  and  poems, 
recited  by  her  pupils,  "  Historical  Exercises,"  &c.  She  was  the 
conductor  at  one  time  of  the  "  Boston  Weekly  Magazine,"  in 
which  she  wrote  many  valuable  essays,  on  various  moral  and 
interesting  subjects.  Odes,  for  masonic  purposes,  hymns  for 
charitable  associations,  and  songs  for  patriotic  festivals,  came 
from  her  pen,  too  numerous  to  mention  singly  ;  and  each  of  them 
did  credit  to  her  poetical  powers.  The  "  Biblical  Dialogues," 
was  her  last  publication.  This  is  a  work  of  great  research,  and 
much  learning,  extremely  useful  in  families  and  schools ;  and 
there  can  be  no  doubt,  but  that  it  will,  at  no  distant  day,  be  in 
general  use.  It  is  perhaps,  a  little  tinctured  with  her  own  pecu- 
liar notions  in  theology ;  but  these  were  sound  and  orthodox, 
according  to  the  episcopal  church ;  and  parents  will,  perhaps, 
find,  that  in  the  course  of  education,  it  may  be  better  to  have  a 
system  for  their  children,  in  which  much  is  believed,  than  to  use 
one  in  which  every  thing  is  doubted.     If  Mrs.  Rowson  had 


400  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

written  but  this  single  work,  it  would  have  given  her  a  con- 
spicuous stand  among  the  literati  of  our  country. 

Not  only  her  latter,  but  her  early  productions,  were  charac- 
terized by  purity,  simplicity,  and  piety.  While  many  gifted 
minds  Avere  laboring  to  poison  the  morals  of  the  young  and 
thoughtless,  by  heated  visions  of  ideal  life,  she  was  drawing  true, 
but  tamer  pictures,  to  elevate  their  sentiments,  and  strengthen  their 
love  of  virtue.  Had  she  indulged  her  imagination  in  a  wild  and 
erratic  course,  with  such  stores  of  knowledge  as  she  possessed, 
she  would  have  gained  a  higher  fame,  but  not  a  better  reward, 
or  more  lasting  satisfaction.  The  plaudits  of  the  world  are 
nothing  to  the  consciousness  of  having  done  right.  Her  calm, 
solemn,  but  interesting  and  pious  tales,  were  opposed  to  the  en- 
chantments of  "  the  mighty  magician  of  Udolpho,"  and  the  sen- 
timental rhapsodies  of  the  Delia  Cruscan  school.  They  were 
floating  in  every  circle  together,  and  it  is  not  wonderful  that  the 
latter  should  have  been  most  read  and  admired,  in  that  day ;  but 
the  artificial  pageant,  however  brilliant,  passes  away,  while  the 
simplicity  of  nature  and  truth  remains.  Chance,  or  untoward 
circumstances,  brought  her  on  the  stage,  where  she  was  distin- 
guished for  correct  deportment,  clearness  of  enunciation,  and  good 
reading.  She  was  received  by  the  audience  with  courtesy  and 
respect,  when  she  could  not  astonish  or  delight  by  her  theatrical 
powers  ;  for  her  literary  and  moral  reputation  was  never,  for  a 
moment^  forgotten  by  an  enlightened  people.  She  appeared  on 
the  boards  in  this  country,  when,  perhaps,  there  was  less  purity 
of  character  on  the  stage,  than  at  present,  but  probably  more 
talent.  Surrrounded  by  the  gairish  and  dazzling  lights  of  the 
stage,  she  shone  a  vestal  lamp,  on  the  shrine  of  virtue,  at  which 
exalted  genius  did  homage,  as  he  passed  on  to  hear  the  applause 
of  enraptured  thousands. 

Her  poetry,  if  not  of  the  highest  cast,  never  sunk  to  the  level 
of  mediocrity.  It  was  always  such  as  the  muses  were  delighted 
to  avow,  if  they  did  not  lend  a  double  portion  of  their  spirit  to 
inspire.  There  is  not  a  line  in  all  her  minstrelsy  that  would 
give  modesty  a  blush,  or  religion  a  pang.  Her  prose  style  was 
remarkable  for  perspicuity  and  ease,  and  some  of  her  sentences 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  401 

are  lofty  and  finished;  but  the  great  charm  in  her  writings,  was 
a  sweet  and  beautiful  morality  which  pervaded  all  her  thoughts. 
Mrs.  Rowson  was  singularly  fitted  for  a  teacher.  Such  intel- 
ligence as  she  possessed,  was  then  rare,  among  those  who  took 
upon  themselves  the  task  of  forming  the  characters,  and  enlighten- 
ing the  minds  of  young  females.  To  her  scholars  she  was  easy, 
and  accessible,  but  not  too  familiar.  Her  manners  were  polished 
and  dignified,  without  distance  or  affectation.  Her  method  of 
governing  her  school  was  strict,  cautious,  and  precise,  without 
severity,  suspicion,  or  capriciousness.  She  watched  the  progress 
of  sentiment  as  well  as  of  knowledge  in  the  minds  of  her  pupils, 
and  taught  them  by  every  salutary  precept,  the  danger  there 
was  to  happiness  in  a  too  luxuriant  growth  of  feeling.  She 
strove  to  gain  the  hearts  of  the  children  of  her  care,  in  order 
that  they  might  fully  confide  in  her  judgment;  and  when  their 
imaginations  reflected  the  hues  of  life,  she  struggled  to  give  a 
just  direction  to  the  bright  colors,  that  they  might  not  fall  to 
dazzle  and  enchant,  when  there  was  but  little  reason  or  stability 
of  purpose  to  oppose  the  delirium.  A  guide  to  the  female  mind 
in  this  dangerous  hour,  is  a  friend  that  can  never  be  forgotten. 
Many  have  ability  "to  wake  the  fancy,"  but  few,  have  power, 
by  the  same  means,  "  to  mend  the  heart,"  particularly  the  female 
heart,  when  the  character  is  passing  from  girlish  frivolity,  to 
sentiment,  susceptibility,  and  passion.  She  did  not  chill  by 
austerity,  "the  genial  current  of  the  soul,"  but  taught  it  to  flow 
in  the  channels  of  correct  feeling,  taste,  virtue,  and  religion. 
Many  dames,  perhaps,  who  have  the  care  of  female  youth,  can 
boast  of  bringing  forward  as  fine  scholars  as  Mrs.  Rowson,  but 
few  can  show  so  many  excellent  wives  and  exemplary  mothers ; 
and  this  is  the  proudest  criterion  of  the  worth  of  instruction  that 
can  be  offered  to  the  world.  Many  educated  by  her  care  might 
with  justice  say — 

"  My  soul,  first  kindled  by  thy  bright  example, 

To  noble  thought  and  gen'rous  emulation, 

Now  but  reflects  those  beams  that  flow'd  from  thee." 

Few  men  were  ever  great  whose  mothers  were  not  intelligent 

34* 


402  FEMALE   BIOGRAPHY. 

and  virtuous ;  first  impressions  often  stamp  the  future  character. 
Education,  for  every  purpose,  is  farther  advanced  in  the  nur- 
sery than  is  generally  imagined. 

Mrs.  Rowson  was  a  model  of  industry.  By  a  judicious 
arrangement  of  her  time,  she  found  opportunities  to  visit  her 
friends,  attend  to  her  pupils,  and  to  write  large  volumes  for 
amusement  and  instruction,  and  yet,  never  seemed  hurried  or 
overwhelmed  with  cares  or  labors.  Method  gave  harmony  to 
her  avocations,  and  if  she  suffered,  it  was  not  perceived ;  if  she 
was  weary  and  exhausted,  it  was  not  known  to  those  around 
her.  This  Avas  the  more  wonderful,  as  she  was,  for  a  great 
portion  of  her  life,  a  valetudinarian.  She  was  an  economist  of 
the  closest  calculation,  in  every  arrangement  of  her  school, 
or  household  affairs.  The  mere  good,  industrious  housewife 
learned  something  more  of  her  duty,  and  added  to  her  stock  of 
culinary  information  at  every  visit  she  paid  this  patron  of  in- 
dustry and  economy.  The  science  and  skill  of  the  kitchen 
were  as  familiar  to  her  as  works  of  taste,  and  if  she  ever  seemed 
proud  of  any  acquirement,  it  was  of  the  knowledge  of  house- 
wifery. 

Mrs.  Rowson  was  admirable  in  conversation.  There  was 
nothing  affected  or  pedantic  in  her  manner,  at  the  same  time 
there  was  nothing  trite  or  common  place.  In  colloquial  inter- 
course, she  rather  followed  than  led,  although  at  home  in  most 
subjects  interesting  to  the  learned  and  accomplished.  She  was 
firm,  at  all  times,  in  her  opinions,  but  modest  in  support  of 
them.  She  reasoned  with  eloquence  and  skill,  but  seldom 
pushed  her  remarks  in  the  form  of  debate.  She  was  patient  in 
the  protracted  communion  of  opposing  thoughts,  but  shrunk  at 
once  from  the  w^ar  of  v/ords.  Bland  and  gentle,  she  pursued 
her  course  of  thinking  fairly  and  astutely,  to  perfect  victory, 
but  her  opponent  never  felt  in  her  presence  the  mortification  of 
a  defeat. 

She  w^as  truly  a  mother  in  Israel.  To  her  charities  there 
was  no  end.  Net  only  "  apportioned  maids  and  apprenticed  or- 
phans" blessed  her  bounty,  but  many,  cast  hopeless  on  the  Avorld, 
found  inher  the  affection,  tenderness,  and  care  of  a  parent.     Her 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  403 

charities  were  not  the  whim  of  a  benevolent  moment,  but  such 
as  suffer  long-  and  are  kind,  and  which  reach  to  the  extent  of  the 
necessity.  The  widow  and  fatherless  will  remember  her  affec- 
tionate efforts  in  their  behalf  She  was  president  of  a  society 
for  their  relief,  and  for  many  years,  her  purse,  pen,  and  powers 
of  solicitation  were  always  at  their  service ;  and  the  cold  winds 
of  winter,  and  the  shattered  hovel,  and  the  children  of  want,  have 
been  witnesses  to  the  zeal  and  judgment  she  has  shown  in  their 
cause,  and  could  also  declare  how  often  she  has  stole  silently  to 
places,  where  misery  watched  and  Avept,  to  bring  consolation  and 
comfort.  Mrs.  Rowson  possessed  a  most  affectionate  disposition 
— too  often  the  sad  concomitant  of  genius.  There  are  times 
when  the  pulses  of  a  susceptible  heart  cannot  be  checked  by 
reason,  nor  soothed  by  religious  hopes ;  the  ills  of  the  world 
crowd  upon  its  surface,  until  it  bleeds  and  breaks.  There  will 
always  be  some  evils  in  our  path,  however  circumspectly  we 
may  travel.  No  one  can  stay  in  this  sad  world,  until  the  com- 
mon age  of  man,  without  numbering  more  dear  friends  among 
the  dead,  than  he  finds  amonff  the  livinof.  A  strong  and  fervid 
imagination,  after  years  spent  in  laboring  to  paint  the  bow 
upon  the  dark  surrounding  clouds  of  life,  but  finding  the  lively 
tints  fade  away  as  fast  as  they  are  drawn,  often  grows  weary  of 
thinking  on  the  business  of  existence,  and  fixing  an  upward 
gaze  on  another  world,  stands  abstracted  from  this,  until  the 
curtain  falls,  and  the  drama  is  closed  forever. 

" balmy  peace 


Rest  with  her  manes,  and  remembrance  ever 
With  odorous  praise  surround  her  laurel'd  tomb." 


Lady  Elizabeth  Russell,  was  the  third  daughter  of  Sir 
Anthony  Cooke,  and  was  born  in  1529.  She  received  a  learned 
education,  and  was  married,  first  to  Sir  Thomas  Hobby,  and  ac- 
companied him  to  France,  when  he  went  there  as  ambassador 
to  queen  Elizabeth,  and  died  there,  July  13th,  1566.  She  had  his 
remains  conveyed  to  England,  and  adorned  his  tomb  with  large 
inscriptions  in  Latin  and  English  verse,  of  her  own  composition. 
She  had  by  him  four  children,  Edward,  Elizabeth,  Anne,  and 


404  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Thomas.  It  does  not  appear  that  she  had  much  comfort  in  either 
of  her  sons,  and  the  youngest  in  particular,  as  is  manifest  in  a 
letter  written  by  her  to  the  lord  treasurer  Burleigh,  was  guilty 
of  such  extravagancies  and  undutifulness,  as  gave  her  much  un- 
easiness. It  is  evident,  from  her  letters,  that  she  was  a  woman 
of  uncommon  spirit  and  sense,  and  an  excellent  economist. 
Some  years  after  the  decease  of  Sir  Thomas  Hobby,  she  married 
John,  Lord  Russell,  son  and  heir  to  Francis  Russell,  earl  of  Bed- 
ford. Her  husband  died  in  the  year  1584,  and  was  buried  in 
the  abbey  church  of  Westminster,  where  there  is  a  noble  monu- 
ment erected  to  his  memory,  and  embellished  with  inscriptions 
in  Greek,  Latin,  and  English,  by  his  surviving  lady.  Her 
children,  by  John,  Lord  Russell,  were  one  son,  who  died  young, 
in  1590,  and  two  daughters,  Anne  and  Elizabeth.  The  last  of 
them  survived  her  father  but  a  little  time,  and  is  said  to  have 
bled  to  death  by  the  prick  of  a  needle  in  the  forefinger  of  the 
left  hand.  This  story  has  been  supported  by  the  figure  placed 
on  her  monument,  where,  on  a  pedestal  of  black  and  white  mar- 
ble, made  columnwise,  in  imitation  of  a  Roman  altar,  may  be 
seen  the  statue  of  a  young  lady,  seated  in  a  most  curiously 
wrought  osier  chair,  of  the  finest  polished  alabaster,  in  a  very 
melancholy  posture,  inclining  her  head  to  the  right  hand,  and 
with  the  forefinger  of  the  left  only  extending  downwards,  to  di- 
rect us  to  behold  the  death's  head  underneath  her  feet,  and  as 
the  tradition  goes,  to  signify  the  disaster  that  brought  her  to  her 
end.  Lady  Russell  translated  out  of  French,  into  English,  a 
tract,  entitled,  "  A  way  of  reconciliation  of  a  good  and  learned 
man,  touching  the  true  nature  and  substance  of  the  body  and 
blood  of  Christ  in  the  sacrament."  This  work  was  printed  in 
1605,  and  is  dedicated  to  her  only  daughter,  Anne  Herbert,  wife 
to  Henry,  Lord  Herbert,  son  and  heir  to  Edward,  earl  of  Wor- 
cester.    Lady  Russell  died  about  the  year  1600. 


Renee  de  France,  duchess  of  Ferrara,  was  born  at  Blois, 
in  1510,  was  the  daughter  of  Louis  XII.,  and  Anne  of  Brittany. 
She  was  affianced  at  an  early  age  to  Charles  of  Austria,  after- 
wards emperor,  and  some  years  afterwards  was  sought  in  mar- 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  405 

riage  by  Henry  VIII.,  of  England  ;  but  neither  of  these  matches 
took  place,  and  Francis  I.  gave  her  to  Flercules  XL,  of  Este, 
duke  of  Ferrara.  She  was  a  princess  of  great  capacity,  and  of 
an  insatiable  thirst  for  knowledge,  and  her  studies  were  not 
limited  to  history,  the  languages,  and  mathematics,  but  em- 
braced also  astrology  and  theology.  The  religious  controver- 
sies greatly  interested  her,  and  the  result  of  her  inquiries  was 
conversion  to  the  tenets  of  the  reformers.  Brantome  supposes, 
not  without  probability,  that  resentment  to  the  many  ill  offices 
done  to  her  father  by  the  popes  Julius  and  Leo,  might  have 
disposed  her  to  renounce  the  authority  of  the  see  of  Rome. 
Calvin,  who  went  from  France  in  disguise  to  visit  her,  brought 
hej  over  to  his  opinions,  in  which  she  was  confirmed  by  her 
secretary,  Marsh.  Her  court  at  Ferrara  became  the  refuge  of 
all  who  were  suspected  of  heresy,  and  her  conduct  gave  so 
much  umbrage  to  the  court  of  France,  that  Henry  II.  sent  a 
doctor  to  the  duke,  with  the  following  instructions :  "  If  the 
duchess  persists  in  her  errors,  she  must  be  separated  from  all 
conversation ;  her  children  must  be  taken  from  her,  and  all  her 
domestics,  who  are  greatly  suspected  of  heresy,  are  to  be  prose- 
cuted. With  regard  to  the  princess  herself,  the  king  refers  to 
the  prudence  of  her  husband  to  proceed  against  her  as  he  may 
judge  proper,  avoiding,  nevertheless,  what  might  occasion  too 
much  scandal."  After  the  death  of  the  duke,  in  1539,  this 
princess  returned  to  France,  and  resided  at  her  castle  of  Mon- 
targis.  The  duke  of  Guise,  in  the  religious  wars,  having  sum- 
moned her  to  deliver  up  some  partisans  who  had  taken  shelter 
with  her,  she  replied  "  that  she  would  not  deliver  them,  and  that 
if  he  should  attack  the  castle,  she  would  be  the  first  to  place 
herself  in  the  breach,  to  see  if  he  would  have  the  audacity  to 
kill  a  king's  daughter."  She  remonstrated  strongly  with 
Francis  II.,  against  the  imprisonment  of  the  prince  of  Conde, 
but  she  afterwards  broke  with  that  prince,  not  approving  the 
civil  war  in  which  he  was  engaged.  She  was  at  length  obliged, 
much  against  her  will,  to  send  away  four  hundred  and  sixty 
persons  to  whom  she  had  compassionately  given  an  asylum ; 
she  parted  with  them  in  tears,  after  providing  for  the  expenses 


406  FEMALE, BIOGRAPHY. 

of  their  journey.  This  estimable  and  distinguished  princess 
died  in  1575,  at  Montargis,  which  place  she  had  embellished 
with  several  fine  buildings. 


Anne  Radcliffe,  is  a  name  at  which  all  our  early  associa- 
tions in  the  fields  of  romance  arise,  and  agitate  our  frames.  How 
many  nights  have  we  been  under  the  influence  of  this  enchant- 
ress, the  dagger  stained  with  blood,  the  dying  groan,  the  pale 
light,  the  hoarse  voice  of  the  raven,  croaking  upon  the  battle- 
ments, have  all  come  up  to  us  as  the  bell  tolled  one,  and  the  stars 
shot  wildly  from  their  spheres  by  the  potent  magic  of  her  pages. 
No  sleep  would  come  that  night,  and  even  the  next  mornmg's 
sun  seemed  to  rise  in  sickliness  and  fright.  Her  whole  volumes 
were  full  of  an  awful  series  of  spells,  which  were  sometimes 
united  as  a  galvanic  battery  to  give  successive  shocks  to  the 
soul ;  and  sometimes  they  came  singly,  as  the  fierce  lightning- 
flash,  to  show  at  once,  the  insufferable  brightness  of  light  and 
the  blackness  of  darkness  together.  But  the  lessons  were,  on 
reflection,  salutary ;  for  in  the  end,  they  taught  us  the  folly  of 
yielding  to  superstitious  fears,  when  appearances  were  strong, 
and  human  reason  was  staggered.  It  was  well  she  came  with 
so  pure  a  spirit,  and  it  is  well  that  her  school  has  passed  away, 
for  her  imitators  fevered,  roared,  dishevelled  their  hair,  beat  their 
breasts,  and  cryed  aloud  among  the  tombs,  but  they  could  not 
disturb  the  elements  of  our  nature  ;  all  their  struggles  only  pro- 
voked us  to  indignant  criticism.  Such  powers  as  Mrs.  Radclifle's 
have  been  rare  in  the  history  of  the  human  mind.  Like  the  sybil, 
she  must  have  wrought  herself  up  at  times,  to  the  very  verge  of 
madness.  It  is  wonderful  that  one  who  wrote  so  much  in  so 
short  a  period,  should  have  sustained  herself  so  well.  One  of 
her  followers,  Lewis,  had  the  power  to  frighten,  but  not  the 
power  to  charm  while  he  frightened.  Nature  gave  him  power 
only  over  half  her  magic  art.  It  is  a  pleasant  task  to  say  some- 
tning  of  her,  and  to  do  away  many  of  the  false  reports  in  regard 
to  the  effects  her  labors  had  upon  her  own  mind,  as  a  fair  state- 
ment will.  The  following  account  of  her,  and  her  works,  is 
taken  from  a  memoir  attached  to  her  writings. 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  407 

Mrs.  RadclifTe  was  born  in  London,  in  July,  1764.  She  was 
the  only  child  of  William  and  Ann  Ward,  persons  of  great  re- 
spectability, who,  though  engaged  in  trade,  were  allied  to  fami- 
lies  of  independent  fortune  and  high  character.  She  was 
descended  from  the  family  of  the  De  Witts  of  Holland.  It 
appears,  from  some  of  the  documents  in  the  hands  of  her  friends, 
that  a  member  of  this  distinguished  house,  came  to  England  in 
the  reign  of  Charles  I.,  under  the  patronage  of  government,  to 
execute  a  plan  for  draining  the  fens  of  Lincolnshire.  The  pro- 
ject was  interrupted  by  the  political  troubles  which  ensued ;  but 
its  author  remained  in  England,  and  passed  the  remainder  of 
his  days  in  a  mansion  near  Hull.  He  brought  with  him  an 
infant  daughter,  named  Amelia,  who  was  the  mother  of  one  of 
Mrs.  RadclifTe's  male  ancestors.  Her  paternal  grandmother 
was  the  sister  of  Cheselden,  the  celebrated  surgeon,  of  whose 
kindness  her  father  retained  a  lively  recollection.  Her  mater- 
nal grandmother  was  Ann  Oates,  the  sister  of  Doctor  Samuel 
Jebb,  of  Stratford,  who  was  the  father  of  Sir  Richard  Jebb ;  and 
she  was  related,  on  her  mother's  side,  to  Dr.  Halifax,  bishop  of 
Gloucester,  and  to  Dr.  Halifax,  physician  to  the  king.  She  was 
instructed  in  all  womanly  accomplishments,  after  the  earlier 
fashion  of  the  time,  but  was  not  exercised  in  the  classics,  nor 
excited  to  pursue  the  studies  necessary  to  form  the  modern  he- 
roine of  conversations.  In  childhood,  her  intelligence  and 
docility  won  the  marked  affection  of  her  relatives,  who  moved 
in  a  somewhat  higher  sphere  than  her  parents,  and  she  passed 
much  of  her  time  at  their  houses.  Her  maternal  uncle  in  law, 
the  late  Mr.  Bentley,  of  the  firm  of  Wedgewood  and  Bentley, 
was  exceedingly  partial  to  his  niece,  and  invited  her  often  to 
visit  him  at  Chelsea,  and  afterwards  at  Turn  ham  Green,  where 
he  resided.  At  his  house  she  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  seeing 
some  persons  of  literary  eminence,  and  many  of  accomplished 
manners.  Mrs.  Piozzi,  Mrs.  Montague,  Mrs.  Ord,  and  the 
gentleman  called  "  Athenian  Stuart,"  were  among  the  visiters. 

Although  the  quickness  and  accuracy  of  Mrs.  Radcliffe's 
powers  of  observation  were  early  felt  by  her  friends,  it  does  not 
seem  that  the  peculiar  bent  of  her  genius  was  perceived  till  after 


408  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

her  marriage.  She  had  been  educated  among  members  of  the 
old  school,  in  manners  and  morals,  whose  notions,  while  they 
prompted  the  most  considerate  kindness  to.wards  their  young 
charge,  did  not,  perhaps,  tend  to  excite  precocious  intellect, 
especially  in  a  female  of  diffidence,  approaching  to  shyness. 
Something  of  the  formality  derived  from  education  may  be 
traced  in  her  works,  supplying  a  massive,  but  noble  and  defi- 
nite frame-work  for  her  sombre  and  heroic  pictures.  There 
was  also,  in  the  feeling  of  old  gentility,  which  most  of  her  rela- 
tives cherished,  a  natural  repugnance  to  authorship,  which  she 
never  entirely  lost,  even  after  her  splendid  success  was  ensured, 
and  she  had  found  herself  the  creator  of  a  new  class  in  English 
romances. 

In  the  twenty -third  year  of  her  age,  Miss  Ward  was  married 
to  Mr.  William  RadclifTe,  a  graduate  of  Oxford,  who,  at  one 
period,  intended  to  follow  the  profession  of  the  law,  and,  with 
that  view,  kept  several  terms  at  one  of  the  Inns  of  Court,  but 
who  afterwards  changed  his  purpose.  The  ceremony  was  per- 
formed at  Bath,  where  her  parents  then  resided,  and  she  after- 
wards proceeded  with  her  husband  to  live  in  the  neighborhood 
of  London.  Encouraged  by  him,  she  soon  began  to  employ  her 
leisure  in  writing ;  and,  as  distrust  of  herself  yielded  to  con- 
scious success,  proceeded  with  great  rapidity.  Mr.  RadclifTe, 
about  this  time,  became  the  proprietor  of"  The  English  Chron- 
icle," and  took  an  active  share  in  the  management  of  the  paper, 
which,  with  other  avocations,  obliged  him  to  be  frequently  ab- 
sent from  home  till  a  late  hour  in  the  evening.  On  these  occa- 
sions, Mrs  RadclifTe  beguiled  the  else  weary  hours  by  her  pen, 
and  often  astonished  her  husband,  on  his  return,  not  only  by  the 
quality,  but  the  extent  of  matter  she  had  produced,  since  he  left 
her.  The  evening  w^as  always  her  favorite  season  for  composition, 
when  her  spirits  were  in  their  happiest  tone,  and  she  was  most 
secure  from  interruption.  So  far  was  she  from  being  subjected 
to  her  own  terrors,  that  she  often  laughingly  presented  to  Mr. 
RadclifTe  chapters  which  he  could  not  read  without  shuddering. 

Although  Mrs.  RadclifTe  was  as  far  a  possible  removed  from 
the  slavery  of  superstitious  fear,  she  took  an  eager  interest  in 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  409 

the  work  of  composition,  and  was,  for  the  time,  completely  ab- 
sorbed in  the  conduct  of  her  stories.  The  pleasures  of  painting 
have  been  worthily  celebrated  by  men,  who  have  been  devoted 
to  the  art ;  but  these  can  scarcely  be  regarded  as  superior  to 
the  enjoyments  of  a  writer  of  romance,  conscious  of  inventive 
power.  If,  in  the  mere  perusal  of  novels,  we  lose  our  painful 
sense  of  the  realities  of  "  this  unimaginable  world,"  and  de- 
lightedly participate  in  the  sorrows,  the  joys,  and  the  struggles 
of  the  persons,  how  far  more  intensely  must  an  authoress,  lik@ 
Mrs.  Radcliffe,  feel  that  outgoing  of  the  heart,  by  which  indi- 
viduality is  multiplied,  and  we  seem  to  pass  a  hundred  lives ! 
She  spreads  out  many  threads  of  sympathy,  and  lives  along 
every  line.  The  passions,  the  affections,  the  hopes  of  her 
characters  are  essentially  hers ;  born  out  of  her  own  heart, 
figured  from  the  tracings  of  her  own  brain,  and  reflecting  back 
again,  in  shape  and  form,  the  images  and  thoughts  which  work 
indistinctly  in  the  fancies  of  others.  There  is  a  perpetual  exer- 
cise of  that  plastic  power,  Avhich  realizes  the  conceptions  of  the 
mind  to  itself,  and  gives  back  to  it  its  own  imaginations  in 
"  clear  dream  and  solemn  vision."  How  delightful  to  trace  the 
dawnings  of  innocent  love,  like  the  coming  on  of  spring ;  to 
unveil  the  daily  course  of  a  peaceful  life,  gliding  on  like  smooth 
water ;  to  exhibit  the  passions  in  their  high  agitations  and 
contests ;  to  devise  generous  self-sacrifice  in  heroic  thought ;  to 
pour,  on  the  wearied  and  palpitating  heart,  overflowing  happi- 
ness ;  to  throw  the  mind  forward  to  advanced  age,  and  through 
its  glass  to  take  a  mournful  retrospect  of  departed  joy,  and  pen- 
sively understand  a  mild  and  timely  decay !  No  exertion  of 
the  faculties  appears  more  enviable  than  that  of  forming  ths» 
outlines  of  a  great  tale,  like  "  The  Mysteries  of  Udolpho ;" 
bringing  out  into  distinctness  all  the  hints  and  dim  pictures, 
which  have  long  floated  in  the  mind ;  keeping  in  view  the  ca- 
tastrophe from  the  first,  and  the  relations  to  it  of  the  noblest 
scenes  and  most  complicated  adventures ;  and  feeling  already, 
as  through  all  the  pulses  of  the  soul,  the  curiosity,  the  terror, 
the  pity  and  the  admiration,  which  will  be  excited  by  the  perusal 
in  the  minds  of  thousands  and  thousands  of  readers. 

35 


410  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Incited  by  the  intellectual  recompense  of  such  a  pursuit,  Mrs. 
Radcliffe  gave  her  romances  in  quick  succession  to  the  world : 
her  first  work,  "  The  Castles  of  Athlin  and  Dunbayne,"  was 
published  in  the  year  1789;  "  The  Sicilian  Romance,"  in  1790; 
"The  Romance  of  the  Forest,"  in  1791;  "The  Mysteries  of 
Udolpho,"  in  1794 ;  and  "  The  Italian,"  in  1797.  It  is  pleasing 
to  trace  the  developement  of  her  resources  and  her  gradual 
acquisition  of  mastery  over  them  in  these  productions.  The  first, 
with  a  goodly  number  of  old  towers,  dungeon  keeps,  subterra- 
neous passages,  and  hair-breadth  escapes,  has  little  of  reality  or 
life ;  as  if  the  author  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  regions  of 
romance  from  afar,  and  formed  a  sort  of  dreamy  acquaintance 
with  its  recesses  and  glooms.  In  her  next  work,  "  The  Sicilian 
Romance,"  she  seems  to  obtain  a  bird's-eye  view  of  all  the  surface 
of  that  delightful  region ;  she  places  its  winding  vales,  and  deli- 
cious bowers,  and  summer  seas,  before  the  eye  of  the  mind  ;  but 
is,  as  yet,  unable  to  introduce  the  reader  individually  into  the  midst 
of  the  scene,  to  surround  him  with  its  luxurious  air,  and  compel 
him  to  shudder  at  its  terrors.  In  "  The  Romance  of  the  For- 
est," she  approaches  and  takes  up  her  very  residence  in  the 
pleasant  borders  of  the  enchanted  land  ;  the  sphere  she  chooses 
is  small  and  the  persons  limited ;  but  here  she  exercises  clear 
dominion,  and  realizes  every  thing  to  the  fancy.  "  The  Myste- 
ries of  Udolpho,"  is  the  work  of  one,  who  has  entered  and  pos- 
sessed a  mighty  portion  of  that  enchanted  land ;  who  is  familiar 
with  its  massive  towers  and  solemn  glooms  ;  and  who  presents 
its  objects  of  beauty  or  horror,  through  a  certain  haze,  which 
sometimes  magnifies,  and  sometimes,  veils  their  true  proportions. 
In  "  The  Italian,"  she  occupies  a  less  space ;  but,  shining  in 
golden  light,  her  figures  have  the  distinctness  of  terrible  pictures; 
and  her  scenes,  though  perhaps  less  astounding  in  the  aggre- 
gate, are  singly  more  thrilling  and  vivid. 

This  splendid  series  of  fictions  became  immediately  popular 
with  the  numerous  class  of  readers,  who  seek  principally  for 
amusement,  and  soon  attracted  the  attention  of  the  finer  spirits 
of  the  age.  Dr.  Joseph  Wharton,  the  head  master  of  Win- 
chester school,  who  was  far  advanced  in  life  when  "  The  Mvs- 


I 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  411 

teries  of  Udolpho"  was  published,  told  Mr.  Robinson,  the  pub- 
lisher, that,  happening  to  meet  with  it,  he  ^Yas  so  fascinated,  that 
he  could  not  go  to  bed  till  he  had  finished  it,  and  actually  sat  up 
the  greater  part  of  the  night  for  that  purpose.  Mr.  Sheridan 
spoke  of  the  same  work  in  terms  of  the  highest  eulogy.  Mr. 
Fox,  in  a  letter  written  to  an  intimate  friend,  soon  after  the  pub- 
lication of  "  The  Italian,"  spoke  of  Mrs.  Radcliffe's  works  in 
terms  of  high  praise,  and  entered  into  a  somewhat  particular  ex- 
amination and  comparison  of  the  respective  merits  of  "  The  Mys- 
teries of  Udolpho"  and  "  The  Italian."  The  author  of  the 
'•  Pursuits  of  Literature,"  not  much  given  to  commend,  describes 
her  as  "  The  mighty  magician  of  '  The  Mysteries  of  Udolpho,' 
bred  and  nourished  by  the  Florentine  muses,  in  their  sacred, 
solitary  caverns,  amid  the  paler  shrines  of  Gothic  superstition, 
and  in  all  the  dreariness  of  enchantment ;  a  poetess,  whom 
Ariosto  would,  with  rapture,  have  acknowledged  as 

La  nudrita 


Darnigella  Trivulzia  al  sacro  speco." 

The  pecuniary  advantages  which  she  derived  from  her  works, 
though  they  have  been  exaggerated,  were  considerable,  accord- 
ing to  the  fashion  of  the  times.  For  "  The  Mysteries  of  Udol- 
pho," she  received,  from  Messrs.  Robinson,  five  hundred  pounds ; 
a  sum,  then  so  unusually  large,  for  a  work  of  fiction,  that  Mr. 
Cadell,  who  had  great  experience  in  such  matters,  on  hearing  the 
statement,  offered  a  wager  of  ten  pounds,  that  it  was  untrue.  By 
"  The  Italian,"  although  considerably  shorter,  she  acquired  about 
the  sum  of  eight  hundred  pounds. 

The  reputation,  which  Mrs.  Radcliffe  derived  from  her  wri- 
tings, did  not  draw  her  from  the  retirement  in  which  they  were 
written.  Although  she  had  no  children,  and  the  duties  of  a 
family  did  not  engross  her  attention,  she  declined  entering  into 
the  society  she  was  so  well  calculated  to  adorn.  Nothing  but 
entire  reciprocity  in  all  the  accompaniments  of  society  could 
satisfy  her  ideas  of  the  independence  it  became  her  to  preserve. 
She  would,  indeed,  have  conferred  honor  and  obligation  on  any 
circle  which  she  could  prevail  on  herself  to  join ;  but  a  scrupu- 


412  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

lous  self-respect,  almost  too  nice  to  be  appreciated  in  these  days, 
induced  her  sedulously  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  reception,  on 
account  of  her  literary  fame.  The  very  thought  of  appearing 
in  person  as  the  author  of  her  romances,  shocked  the  delicacy  of 
her  mind.  To  the  publication  of  her  works,  she  was  constrained 
by  the  force  of  her  own  genius ;  but  nothing  could  tempt  her  to 
publish  herself,  or  to  sink,  for  a  moment,  the  gentlewoman  in 
the  novelist.  She  felt  also  a  distaste  to  the  increasing  familiarity 
of  modern  manners,  to  which  she  had  been  unaccustomed  in  her 
youth ;  and,  though  remarkably  free  and  cheerful  with  her  rela- 
tives and  intimate  friends,  she  preferred  the  more  formal  polite- 
ness of  the  old  school  among  strangers.  Besides  these  reasons 
for  preserving  her  seclusion,  she  enjoyed,  with  peculiar  relish, 
the  elegant  pleasures  it  gave  her  the  means  of  partaking  with 
her  husband.  She  chose  at  once  the  course  she  would  pursue, 
and,  finding  that  her  views  met  the  entire  concurrence  of  Mr. 
Radcliffe,  adhered  to  it  through  life.  Instead  of  lavishing  time 
and  money  on  entertainments,  the  necessity  for  which,  according 
to  her  feelings,  was  connected  with  a  participation  in  general 
society,  she  sought  the  comforts  of  residing  in  airy  and  pleasant 
situations,  of  unbroken  leisure  and  frequent  traveling ;  and  as 
her  income  was  increased  by  the  death  of  relatives,  she  retained 
the  same  plan  of  living,  only  extending  its  scale  of  innocent 
luxury. 

In  the  summer  of  1794,  subsequent  to  the  publication  of 
"  The  Mysteries  of  Udolpho,"  Mrs.  Radcliffe  accompanied  her 
husband  on  a  tour  through  Holland  and  the  western  frontier  of 
Germany,  returning  down  the  Rhine.  This  was  the  first  and 
only  occasion,  on  which  she  quitted  England;  though  the  vivid- 
ness of  her  descriptions  of  Italy,  Switzerland,  and  the  south  of 
France,  in  which  her  scenes  are  principally  laid,  induced  a 
general  belief,  that  she  had  visited  those  countries.  So  strongly 
was  this  conviction  impressed  on  the  public  mind,  that  a  recent 
traveler  of  celebrity  referred  to  her  descriptions  as  derived  from 
personal  observation ;  and  it  was  asserted  in  the  "  Edinburgh 
Review,"  for  May  1823,  that  she  accompanied  her  husband  to 
Italy,  w^hen  he  was  attached  to  one  of  the  British  embassies. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  41'3 

and  that  "  it  was  on  that  occasion  she  imbibed  the  taste  for  pic* 
turesque  scenery,  and  the  obscure  and  wild  superstitions  of 
mouldering  castles,  of  which  she  has  made  so  beautiful  a  use  in 
her  romances."  After  their  return  from  the  continent,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Radcliffe  made  a  tour  to  the  English  lakes,  and  were 
highly  gratified  by  the  excursion.  On  these  journeys,  Mrs. 
Radcliffe  almost  invariably  employed  snatches  of  time,  at  the 
inns  where  she  rested,  in  committing  to  paper  the  impressions 
and  events  of  the  day,  which  she  could  afterwards  review  at 
leisure;  a  happy  mode  of  prolonging  those  vivid  pleasures  of 
life,  for  which  she  had  a  fine  relish.  Such  a  habit,  -when  it  does 
not  become  too  frequently  introspective,  or  "  sickly  o'er"  our 
enjoyments  with  "the  pale  cast  of  thought,"  tends  to  impart  a 
unity  to  our  intellectual  being.  It  enables  us  to  live  over  again 
the  unbroken  line  of  existence ;  to  gather  up  the  precious  drops 
of  happiness,  that  they  be  not  lost ;  and,  in  the  last  moments  of 
feeling  and  thought,  to  find  "  a  glass  which  shows  us  many 
more."  After  Mrs.  Radcliffe's  return,  she  was  prevailed  on  to 
give  to  her  notes  a  regular  form,  and  to  publish  them  in  a  quarto 
volume,  which  met  with  a  favorable  reception. 

The  subsequent  excursions  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Radcliffe  were  of 
less  extent,  and  chiefly  directed  to  the  southern  coast  of  England. 
Always  once,  and  generally  twice  in  the  year,  they  took  a  jour- 
ne}?-  through  some  beautiful  or  interesting  country,  limiting 
themselves  to  no  particular  course,  but  enjoying  the  perfect  free- 
dom, which  was  most  agreeable  to  their  tastes.  Mrs.  Radcliffe 
continued  her  little  diary  of  these  pleasant  rovings,  but  without 
the  slightest  idea  of  publication,  from  which  she  generally 
shrunk  as  an  evil.  The  scenes  and  incidents  which  she  has 
portrayed  in  these  private  journals,  exhibit  her  mind  in  its 
undress,  show  her  feelings  as  they  were  undisguised,  and  dis- 
play her  tact  of  observation  and  descriptive  power,  as  existing 
simply  for  her  own  gratification.  She  always  traveled  with  a 
considerable  number  of  books,  and  generally  wrote  while  Mr. 
Radcliffe  derived  amusement  from  reading  them. 

Mrs.  Radcliffe  made  many  tours  of  pleasure  with  her  hus- 
band, which  are  sweetly  narrated  by  herself,  but  are  too  long 

35* 


414  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

for  insertion  in  this  place.  These  delightful  little  journeys  were 
continued  almost  every  season,  from  1797  to  her  death,  which 
happened  in  January,  1823,  by  asthma,  in  the  fifty-ninth  year 
of  her  age.  Her  feelings  had  often  been  wounded  by  the  coarse- 
ness of  criticism,  although  she  had  received  a  sufficient  number 
of  complimentary  reviews  on  her  works  to  make  any  one  vain ; 
but  she  never  was.  So  far  from  having  lost  her  mind  at  any 
period  of  her  life,  she  was  remarkably  cheerful  until  the  lamp 
of  life  was  expiring  in  the  socket. 

Mrs.  Radcliffe,  was,  in  her  youth,  exquisitely  proportioned, 
though  she  resembled  her  father,  and  his  brother  and  sister,  in 
being  low  of  stature.  Her  complexion  was  beautiful,  as  was  her 
whole  countenance,  especially  her  eyes,  eyebrows,  and  mouth. 
She  was  educated  in  the  principles  of  the  church  of  England  ; 
and  through  life,  unless  prevented  by  serious  indisposition,  regu- 
larly attended  its  services.  Her  piety,  though  cheerful,  was  deep 
and  sincere.  Although  perfectly  well  bred,  and  endowed  with 
faculties  and  tastes  which  rendered  her  a  delightful  companion, 
she  wanted  that  confidence  which  is  necessary  to  mixed  society, 
and  which  she  could  scarcely  acquire,  without  losing  something 
of  the  delicacy  of  feeling,  which  marked  her  character.  If,  in 
her  retirement,  she  was  sometimes  affected  by  circumstances 
which  would  have  passed  unheeded  amidst  the  bustle  of  the 
world,  she  was  more  than  repaid  by  the  enjoyments,  which  were 
fostered  in  the  shade ;  and  perhaps  few  distinguished  authors 
have  passed  a  life  so  blameless  and  so  happy. 

Mrs.  Radcliffe  may  fairly  be  considered  as  the  inventor  of  a 
new  style  of  romance ;  equally  distinct  from  the  old  tales  of 
chivalry  and  magic,  and  from  modern  representations  of  credible 
incidents  and  living  manners.  Her  works  partially  exhibit  the 
charms  of  each  species  of  composition ;  interweaving  the  mirac- 
ulous with  the  probable,  in  consistent  narrative,  and  breathing 
of  tenderness  and  beauty  peculiarly  her  own.  The  poetical 
marvels  of  the  first  fill  the  imagination,  but  take  no  hold  on  the 
sympathies,  to  which  they  have  become  alien  ;  the  idcissitudes 
of  the  last  awaken  our  cariosity,  without  transporting  us  beyond 
the  sphere  of  ordinary  life.     But  it  was  reserved  for  Mrs.  Rad- 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY,  415 

cliffe  to  infuse  the  wondrous  in  the  credible ;  to  animate  rich 
description  with  stirring  adventure;  and  to  impart  a  portion  of 
human  interest  to  the  progress  of  romantic  fiction.  She  occupied 
that  middle  region  between  the  mighty  dreams  of  the  heroic 
ages,  and  the  realities  of  our  own,  which  remained  to  be  posses- 
sed ;  filled  it  with  goodly  imagery,  and  made  it  resonant  with 
awful  voices.  Her  works,  in  order  to  produce  their  greatest 
impressions,  should  be  read  first,  not  in  childhood,  for  which 
they  are  too  substantial ;  nor  at  mature  age,  for  which  they  may 
seem  too  visionary ;  but  at  that  delightful  period  of  youth,  when 
the  soft  twilight  of  the  imagination  harmonizes  with  the  luxu- 
rious and  uncertain  light  cast  on  their  wonders.  By  those,  who 
come  well  informed,  at  such  an  age,  to  their  perusal,  they  will 
never  be  forgotten. 

The  principal  means,  which  Mrs.  Radcliffe  employed  to  raise 
up  her  enchantments  on  the  borders  of  truth,  are,  first,  her  faculty 
of  awakening  emotions  allied  to  superstitious  fear;  and,  secondly, 
her  skill  in  selecting  and  describing  scenes  and  figures  precisely 
adapted  to  the  feelings  she  sought  to  enkindle.  We  will  ex- 
amine each  of  these  powers,  and  then  shortly  advert  to  their 
developement  in  her  successive  romances. 

I.  The  art,  by  which  supernatural  agency  is  insinuated,  de- 
rives its  potency  from  its  singular  application  to  human  nature, 
in  its  extremes  of  weakness  and  strength.  Simply  considered, 
fear  is  the  basest  of  emotions,  and  the  least  adapted  to  the  dignity 
of  romance;  yet  it  is  that,  of  which  the  most  heroic  heart  some- 
times whispers  a  confession.  On  the  other  hand,  every  thing, 
Avhich  tends  to  elevate  and  ennoble  our  feelings,  to  give  the  char- 
acter of  permanency  to  our  impressions,  and  impart  a  tongue 
to  the  silence  of  nature,  has  reference  to  things  unseen.  The 
tremblings  of  the  spirit,  which  are  base  when  prompted  by  any 
thing  earthly,  become  sublime  Vv'hen  inspired  by  a  sense  of  the 
visionary  and  immortal.  They  are  the  secret  witnesses  of  our 
alliance  with  power  which  is  not  of  this  world.  We  feel  both 
our  fleshly  infirmity  and  our  high  destiny,  as  we  shrink  on  the 
borders  of  spiritual  existence.  Whilst  we  listen  for  echoes  from 
beyond  the  grave,  and  search  with  tremulous  eagerness  for  indi- 


416  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

cations  of  the  unearthly,  our  curiosity  and  fear  assume  the  gran- 
deur of  passions.  We  might  we]l  douht  our  own  immortality, 
if  we  felt  no  restless  desire  to  forestall  the  knowledge  of  its  great 
secret,  and  held  no  obstinate  questionings  with  the  sepulchre. 
We  were  not  of  heavenly  origin,  if  we  did  not  struggle  after  a 
communion  with  the  invisible ;  nor  of  human  flesh,  if  we  did 
not  shudder  at  our  own  daring;  and  it  is  in  the  union  of  this 
just  audacity  and  venal  terror,  that  we  are  strangely  awed  and 
affected.  It  is,  therefore,  needless  to  justify  the  use  of  the  super- 
natural in  fiction  ;  for  it  is  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  Avorkings 
of  the  imagination  ;  that  power,  whose  high  province  it  is  to 
mediate  between  the  world  without  us,  and  the  world  within  us ; 
on  the  one  hand  to  impart  sentiment  and  passion  to  the  external 
universe,  and  make  it  redolent  of  noble  associations ;  and,  on 
the  other,  to  clothe  the  affections  of  the  heart,  and  the  high  sug- 
gestions of  the  reason,  Avith  color  and  shape,  and  present  them 
to  the  mind  in  living  and  substantial  forms. 

There  are  various  modes  in  which  the  supernatural  may  be 
employed,  requiring  more  or  less  of  a  dextrous  sympathy,  in 
proportion  to  the  depth  and  seriousness  of  the  feeling, 'which  the 
author  proposes  to  aw^aken.  In  cases  where  the  appeal  is  only 
made  to  the  fancy,  it  is  sufficient  if  the  pictures  are  consistent 
with  themselves,  without  any  reference  to  the  prejudices,  or  pas- 
sions of  those,  before  whom  they  are  presented.  To  this  class, 
the  fables  of  the  Greek  mythology  belong,  notwithstanding  their 
infinite  varieties  of  grandeur  and  beauty.  They  were  too  bright 
and  palpable  to  produce  emotions  of  awe,  even  among  those 
who  profess  to  believe  them ;  and  rather  tended  to  enclose  the 
sphere  of  mortal  vision,  which  they  adorned  and  gladdened 
with  more  definite  boundaries,  than  to  intimate  the  obscure  and 
eternal.  Instead  of  wearing,  then,  the  solemn  aspect  of  anti- 
quity, they  seem,  even  now,  touched  with  the  bloom  of  an  im- 
perishable youth.  The  gorgeous  oriental  fictions,  and  modern 
tales  of  fairy  lore,  are  also  merely  fantastical,  and  advance  no 
claim  on  faith  or  feeling.  Their  authors  escape  from  the  laws 
of  matter,  without  deriving  any  power  from  the  functions  of 
spirit ;  they  are  rather  without,  than  above  nature,  and  seek  only 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  417 

an  excuse,  in  the  name  of  the  supernatural,  for  their  graceful 
vagaries.  Akin  essentially  to  these  are  mere  tales  of  terror,  in 
which  horrors  are  accumulated  on  horrors.  Beyond  the  pre- 
cincts of  the  nursery,  they  are  nothing  but  a  succession  of  scenic 
representations,  a  finely  colored  phantasmagoria,  which  may 
strike  the  fancy,  but  do  not  chill  the  blood,  and  soon  weary 
the  spectator.  It  is  only  the  "  eye  of  childhood  which  fears  a 
painted  devil."  In  some  of  the  wild  German  tales,  indeed,  there 
is,  occasionally,  a  forcible  exaggeration  of  truth,  which  strikes 
for  a  moment,  and  seems  to  give  back  the  memory  of  a  forgotten 
dream.  But  none  of  these  works,  whatever  poetical  merit  they 
may  possess,  have  the  power  to  fascinate  and  appal,  by  touching 
those  secret  strings  of  mortal  apprehension,  which  connect  our 
earthly  with  our  spiritual  being. 

In  these  later  days,  it  no  doubt  requires  a  fine  knowledge  of 
the  human  heart  to  employ  the  supernatural,  so  as  to  move  the 
pulses  of  terror.  Of  all  superstitions,  the  most  touching  are 
those,  which  relate  to  the  appearance  of  the  dead  among  the  liv- 
ing ;  not  only  on  account  of  the  reality  which  they  derive  from 
mingling  with  the  ordinary  business  of  life,  but  of  the  cold  and 
shuddering  sympathy  we  feel  for  a  being,  like  to  whom  w^e  may 
ourselves  become  in  a  few  short  years.  To  bring  such  a  vision 
palpably  on  the  scene  is  always  a  bold  experiment,  and  usually 
requires  a  long  note  of  preparation,  and  a  train  of  circumstances, 
which  may  gradually  and  insensibly  dispose  the  mind  to  im- 
plicit credence.  Yet  to  dispense  with  all  such  appliances,  and  to 
call  forth  the  grandest  spirit  that  ever  glided  from  the  tomb,  was 
not  beyond  Shakspeare's  skill.  A  few  short  sentences  only 
prepare  the  way  for  the  ghost  of  the  murdered  king  of  Denmark ; 
the  spirit  enters,  and  we  feel  at  once  he  is  no  creature  of  time ; 
he  speaks,  and  his  language  is  "  of  Tartarus,  and  the  souls  in 
bale."  Such  mighty  magic  as  this,  however,  belonged  only  to 
the  first  of  poets.  Writers  who,  in  modern  times,  have  succeeded 
in  infusing  into  the  mind  thoughts  of  unearthly  fear,  have  usually 
taken  one  of  these  two  courses ;  either  they  have  associated  their 
superstitions  with  the  solemnities  of  nature,  and  contrived  to 
interweave  them  in  the  very  texture  of  life,  without  making 


418  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

themselves  responsible  for  the  feelings  they  excite ;  or  tney  have, 
by  mysterious  hints  and  skilful  contrivances,  excited  the  curi- 
osity and  terror  of  their  readers,  till  they  have  prepared  them, 
either  to  believe  in  any  w^onder  they  may  produce,  or  to  image 
for  themselves,  in  the  obscurity,  fearful  shapes,  and  to  feel  the 
presence  of  invisible  horrors. 

Those,  who  seek  to  create  a  species  of  supernatural  interest 
by  the  first  of  these  processes,  find  abundant  materials  adapted  to 
their  use  in  the  noblest  parts  of  our  own  intellectual  history. 
There  are  doubtful  phenomena  within  the  experience  of  all  re- 
flecting minds,  which  may  scarcely  be  referred  to  their  mere 
mortal  nature,  and  which  sometimes  force  on  the  coldest  skeptic 
a  conviction,  that  he  is  "fearfully,"  as  well  as  "wonderfully  made." 
Golden  dreams  hover  over  our  cradle,  and  shadows  thicken 
round  the  natural  descent  of  the  aged  into  the  grave.  Few  there 
are,  who,  in  childhood  have  not  experienced  some  strange  visit- 
in  gs  of  serious  thought,  gently  agitating  the  soul  like  the  wind 
'*  that  bloweth  where  it  listeth,"  suggesting  to  it  holy  fancies,  and 
awakening  its  first  sympathy  with  a  world  of  sorrow  and  of 
tears.  Who  has  not  felt,  or  believed  that  he  has  felt,  a  sure  pre- 
sentiment of  approaching  evil?  Who,  at  some  trivial  occur- 
rence, "striking  the  electric  chord  by  which  we  are  darkly 
bound,"  has  not  been  startled  by  the  sudden  revival  of  old 
images  and  feelings,  long  buried  in  the  depth  of  years,  which 
stalk  before  him  like  spectres  of  departed  companions  ?  Who 
has  not  shrunk  from  the  fascination  of  guilty  thoughts,  as  from 
"  supernatural  soliciting?"  Where  is  the  man  so  basely  moulded, 
that  he  does  not  remember  moments  of  inspiration,  when  state- 
lier images  than  his  intellect  can  embody,  hopes  and  assurances 
brighter  than  his  constitutional  temperament  may  recall,  and 
higher  faculties  within  himself  than  he  has  ever  been  able  to 
use,  have  stood  revealed  to  him  like  mountain-tops  at  the  utmost 
reach  of  vision,  touched  by  a  gleam  of  the  morning  sun  ?  And 
who,  in  the  melancholy  calm  of  the  mind,  sadly  looking  into 
its  depths,  has  not  perceived  the  gigantic  wrecks  of  a  nobler 
nature,  as  the  fortunate  voyager  on  some  crystal  lake  has 
discerned,  or  fancied  he  discerned,  the  wave-worn  towers  of  a 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  419 

forgotten  city  far  in  the  deep  waters  ?  There  are  magic  threads 
in  the  web  of  life,  which  a  writer  of  romance  has  only  to  bring 
out  and  to  touch  with  appropriate  hues  of  fancy.  From  the 
secret  places  of  the  soul  are  voices  more  solemn  than  from  old 
superstitions,  to  which  he  may  bid  us  hearken.  In  his  works, 
prophecies  may  be  fulfilled ;  presentiments  justified :  the  history 
of  manhood  may  answer  to  the  dreams  of  the  nursery ;  and  he 
may  leave  his  readers  to  assert  if  they  can,  "  These  have  their 
causes,  they  are  natural !"  Let  him  only  give  due  effect  to  the 
problem,  and  he  may  safelj^  trust  their  hearts  to  supply  the 
answer ! 

The  other  mode  of  exciting  terror  requires,  perhaps,  greater 
delicacy  and  skill,  as  the  author  purposes  to  influence  the  mind 
directly  from  without,  instead  of  leaving  it,  after  receiving  a 
certain  clue,  to  its  own  workings.  In  this  style,  up  to  the  point 
where  Mrs.  Radcliffe  chooses  to  pause  and  explain,  she  has  no 
rival.  She  knows  the  string  of  feeling  she  must  touch,  and 
exactly  proportions  her  means  to  her  design.  She  invariably 
succeeds,  not  by  the  quantity  but  the  quality  of  her  terrors.  In- 
stead of  exhibiting  a  succession  of  magnificent  glooms,  which 
only  darken  the  imagination,  she  whispers  some  mysterious 
suggestion  to  the  soul,  and  exhibits  only  just  enough  of  her 
picture  to  prolong  the  throbbings  she  has  excited.  In  nothing 
is  her  supremacy  so  clearly  shown,  as  in  the  wise  and  daring 
economy,  with  which  she  has  employed  the  instruments  of  fear. 
A  low  groan  issuing  from  distant  vaults  ;  a  voice  heard  among 
an  assembly  from  an  unknown  speaker ;  a  little  track  of  blood 
seen  by  the  uncertain  light  of  a  lamp  on  a  castle  staircase ;  a 
wild  strain  of  music  floating  over  moonlit  woods,  as  intro- 
duced by  her,  affect  the  mind  more  deeply  than  terrible  incan- 
tations, or  accumulated  butcheries.  "  Pluck  out  the  hea'  t  of 
her  mystery  !"  tell,  at  once,  the  secret,  the  slightest  hint  of  which 
appals ;  verify  the  worst  apprehensions  of  the  reader,  and  what 
would  be  the  reality  in  common  hands  ?  You  can  suspect 
nothing  more  than  a  cruel  murder,  perpetrated  many  years  ago, 
by  an  unprincipled  monk,  or  an  avowed  robber  !  Why  should 
we  suffer  all  the  stings  of  curiosity  on  such  an  issue  ?     Human 


420  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

life  is  not  held  so  precious,  murder  is  not  so  strang-e  and  rare  an 
occurrence,  that  we  should  be  greatly  agitated  by  the  question 
whether,  two  centuries  ago,  a  bandit  destroyed  one  of  his  cap- 
tives; but  the  skill  of  the  writer,  applying  itself  justly  to  the 
pulses  of  terror  in  our  intellectual  being,  gives  tragic  interest  to 
the  inquiry,  makes  the  rusted  dagger  terrible,  and  the  spot  of 
blood  sublime.  This  faculty  is  the  more  remarkable,  as  it  is  em- 
ployed to  raise  a  single  crime  into  importance,  while  others  of 
equal  dye  are  casually  alluded  to,  and  dismissed,  as  deeds  of  little 
note,  and  make  no  impression  on  the  reader.  Assassins,  who 
murder  for  hire,  commonly  excite  no  feeling  in  romance,  except 
as  mere  instruments,  like  the  weapons  they  use;  but,  when 
Mrs.  Radcliffe  chooses  to  single  out  one  of  these  from  the  mass, 
though  undistinguished  by  peculiar  characteristics,  she  rivets 
our  attention  to  Spalatro,  as  by  an  irresistible  spell ;  forces  us 
to  -watch  every  movement  of  his  haggard  countenance,  and 
makes  the  low  sound  of  his  stealthy  footstep  sink  into  the  soul. 
Her  faculty,  therefore,  which  has  been  represented  as  melo- 
dramatic, is  akin  to  the  very  essence  of  tragic  power,  which  is 
felt  not  merely  in  the  greatness  of  the  actions  or  sorrows  which 
it  exhibits,  but  in  its  nice  application  to  the  inmost  sources  of 
terror  and  of  pity. 

It  is  extraordinary  that  a  writer,  thus  gifted,  should,  in  all 
her  works  intended  for  publication,  studiously  resolve  the  cir- 
cumstances, by  which  she  has  excited  superstitious  apprehen- 
sions, into  mere  physical  causes.  She  seems  to  have  acted  on 
a  notion,  that  some  established  canon  of  romance  obliged  her  to 
reject  real  supernatural  agency;  for  it  is  impossible  to  believe 
she  would  have  adopted  this  harassing  expedient  if  she  had  felt 
at  libert}/-  to  obey  the  promptings  of  her  own  genius.  So  abso- 
lute was  her  respect  for  every  species  of  authority,  that  it  is 
probable  she  would  rather  have  sacrificed  all  her  productionSy 
than  have  transgressed  any  arbitrary  law  of  taste  or  criticism. 
It  is  equally  obvious,  that  there  is  no  valid  ground  of  objectioii 
to  the  use  of  the  supernatural,  in  works  of  fiction,  and  that  it  is 
absolutely  essential  to  the  perfection  of  that  kind  of  romance, 
which  she  invented.     To  the  imagination,  it  is  not  only  possible. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  421 

but  congenial,  when  introduced  with  art,  and  employed  for 
high  and  solemn  purposes.  Grant  only  the  possibility  of  its 
truth,  which  "  the  fair  and  innocent"  are  half  disposed  to  believe, 
and  there  is  nothing  extravagant  in  the  whole  machinery  by 
which  it  works.  But  discard  it  altogether,  and  introduce,  in  its 
stead,  a  variety  of  startling  phenomena,  which  are  resolved  at 
last  into  petty  deceptions  and  gross  improbabilities,  and  you  at 
once  disappoint  the  fancy,  and  shock  the  understanding  of  the 
reader.  In  the  first  case,  the  reason  is  not  offended,  because  it 
is  not  consulted  ;  in  the  last,  it  is  expressly  appealed  to  with  the 
certainty  of  an  unfavorable  decision.  Besides,  it  is  clear  that  all 
the  feelings  created  up  to  the  moment  of  explanation,  and  which 
it  has  been  the  very  object  of  the  author  to  awaken,  have  obeyed 
the  influence  of  these  very  principles,  which  at  last  she  chooses 
to  disown.  If  the  minds  to  w^hom  the  work  is  addressed,  were 
so  constituted  as  to  reject  the  idea  of  supernatural  agency,  they 
w^ould  be  entirely  unmoved  by  the  circumstances  arranged  to 
produce  the  impression  of  its  existence ;  and  "  The  Mysteries  of 
Udolpho"  would  have  fallen  still-born  from  the  press !  Why 
then  should  the  author  turn  traitor  to  her  own  "so  potent  art?" 
Why,  having  wrought  on  the  fears  of  her  readers,  till  she 
sways  them  at  her  will,  must  she  turn  round  and  tell  them  they 
have  been  awed  and  excited  by  a  succession  of  mockeries? 
Such  impotent  conclusions  injure  the  romances  as  works  of  art, 
and  jar  on  the  nerves  of  the  reader,  which  are  tuned  for  grand 
wonders,  not  paltry  discoveries.  This  very  error,  however, 
which  injures  the  effect  of  Mrs.  Radcliffe's  works,  especially  on 
a  second  perusal,  sets  off,  in  the  strongest  light,  the  wizard 
power  of  her  genius.  Even  when  she  has  dissolved  mystery 
after  mystery,  and  abjured  spell  after  spell,  the  impression  sur- 
vives, and  the  reader  is  still  eager  to  attend  again,  and  be  again 
deluded.  After  the  voices  heard  in  the  chambers  of  Udolpho 
have  been  shown  to  be  the  wanton  trick  of  a  prisoner,  we  still 
revert  to  the  remaining  prodigies  with  anxious  curiosity,  and  are 
prepared  to  give  implicit  credence  to  new  wonders  at  Chateau 
le  Blanc.  In  the  romance  of  Gaston  de  Blondeville,  Mrs.  Rad- 
cliffe,  not  intending  to  publish,  gratified  herself  by  the  introduction 

36 


422  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

of  a  true  spectre ;  and,  without  anticipating  the  opinion  of  the 
public  on  that  work,  we  may  venture  to  express  a  belief,  that 
the  manner  in  which  the  supernatural  agency  is  conducted,  will 
deepen  the  general  regret,  that  she  did  not  employ  it  in  her 
longer  and  more  elaborate  productions. 

II.  Mrs.  Radcliffe's  faculties  of  describing  and  picturing 
scenes  and  appropriate  figures  were  of  the  highest  order.  Her 
accurate  observation  of  inanimate  nature,  prompted  by  an  intense 
love  of  all  its  varieties,  supplied  the  materials  for  those  richly 
colored  representations,  which  her  genius  presented.  Without 
this  perception  of  the  true,  the  liveliest  fancy  will  only  produce  a 
chaos  of  beautiful  images,  like  the  remembered  fragments  of  a 
gorgeous  dream.  How  singularly  capable  Mrs.  Radcliffe  was  of 
painting  the  external  world,  in  its  naked  grandeur,  her  published 
tour  among  the  English  lakes,  and,  perhaps  still  more,  the  notes 
made  on  her  journeys  for  her  own  amusement,  abundantly  prove. 
In  the  first,  the  boldness  and  simplicity  of  her  strokes,  convey- 
ing the  clear  images  to  the  eye  of  the  mind,  with  scarcely  any 
incrustation  of  sentiment,  or  perplexing  dazzle  of  fancy,  distin- 
guish her  from  almost  all  other  descriptive  tourists.  Still  the 
great  charm  of  simpliaity  was  hardly  so  complete  as  in  her  un- 
studied notices  of  scenery;  because  in  writing  for  the  press,  it 
is  scarcely  possible  to  avoid  altogether  the  temptation  of  high 
sounding  and  ambiguous  expressions,  which  alvvays  impede  the 
distinct  presentment  of  material  forms.  To  this  difficulty,  s.he 
thus  adverts  in  her  account  of  Ulswater.  "  It  is  difficult  to 
spread  varied  pictures  of  such  scenes  before  the  imagination. 
A  repetition  of  the  same  images  of  rock,  wood,  and  water,  and 
the  same  epithets  of  grand,  vast,  and  sublime,  which  necessarily 
occur,  must  appear  tautologous,  though  their  archetypes  in 
nature,  ever  varying  in  outline  or  arrangement,  exhibit  new 
visions  to  the  eye,  and  produce  new  shades  of  effect  on  the  mind.'^ 
In  the  journals,  as  no  idea  of  authorship  interposed  to  give 
restraint  to  her  style,  there  is  entire  fidelity  and  truth.  She 
seems  the  very  chronicler  and  secretary  of  nature^  makes  us 
feel  the  freshness  of  the  air;  and  listen  to  the  gendest  sounds. 
Not  only  does  she  keep  each  scene  distinct  from  all  others,  how- 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  423 

ever  similar  in  general  character,  but  discriminates  its  shifting 
aspects  with  the  most  delicate  exactness.  No  aerial  tint  of  a 
fleecy  cloud  is  too  evanescent  to  be  imaged  in  her  transparent 
style.  Perhaps  no  writer  in  prose  or  verse,  has  been  so  happy 
in  describing  the  varied  effects  of  light  in  winged  words.  It  is 
true,  that  there  is  not  equal  discrimination  in  the  views  of  natu- 
ral scenery,  which  she  presents  in  her  romances.  In  them  she 
writes  of  places  which  she  has  not  visited ;  and,  like  a  true 
lover,  invests  absent  nature  with  imaginary  loveliness.  She 
looks  at  the  grandeurs  and  beauties  of  creation  through  a  soft 
and  tender  medium,  in  which  its  graces  are  heightened,  but 
some  of  its  delicate  varieties  are  lost.  Still  it  is  nature  that  we 
see,  though  touched  with  the  hues  of  romance,  and  which  could 
only  be  thus  presented  by  one  who  had  known,  and  studied  its 
simplest  charms. 

In  the  estimate  of  Mrs.  Radcliffe's  pictorial  powers,  we  must 
include  her  persons  as  well  as  her  scenes.  It  must  be  admitted 
that,  with  scarcely  an  exception,  they  are  figures  rather  than 
characters.  No  writer  ever  produced  so  powerful  an  effect, 
without  the  aid  of  sympathy.  Her  machinery  acts  directly  on 
her  readers,  and  makes  them  tremble  and  weep,  not  for  others, 
but  for  themselves.  Adeline,  Emily,  Vivaldi,  and  Ellena,  are 
nothing  to  us,  except  as  filling  up  the  scene ;  but  it  is  we  our- 
selves, who  discover  the  manuscript  in  the  deserted  abbey;  we, 
who  are  prisoners  in  the  castle  of  Udolpho ;  we,  who  are  inmates 
of  Spalatro's  cottage ;  we,  who  stand  before  the  secret  tribunal 
of  the  Inquisition,  and  even  there  are  startled  by  the  mysterious 
voice  deepening  its  horrors.  The  whole  is  prodigious  painting, 
so  entire  as  to  surround  us  with  illusion ;  so  cunningly  arranged 
as  to  harrow  up  the  soul;  and  the  presence  of  a  real  person 
would  spoil  its  completeness.  As  figures,  all  the  persons  are 
adapted  with  peculiar  skill  to  the  scenes  in  which  they  appear; 
the  more,  as  they  are  part  of  one  entire  conception.  Schedoni 
is  the  most  individual  and  fearful ;  but  through  all  the  earlier 
parts  of  the  romance,  he  stalks  like  a  being  not  of  this  world ; 
and  works  out  his  purposes  by  that  which,  for  the  time  at  least, 
we  feel  to  be  superhuman  agency.     But  when,  after  glaring 


424  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

out  upon  us  so  long  as  a  present  demon ;  or  felt,  when  unseen, 
as  directing  the  whole  by  his  awful  energies ;  he  is  brought 
within  the  range  of  human  emotion  by  the  discovery  of  his  sup- 
posed daughter,  and  an  anxiety  for  her  safety  and  marriage ; 
the  spell  is  broken.  We  feel  the  incongruity ;  as  if  a  spectre 
should  weep.  To  develope  character  was  not  within  the  scope 
of  Mrs.  Radcliffe's  plan,  nor  compatable  with  her  style.  At 
one  touch  of  human  pathos  the  enchantment  would  have  been 
dissolved,  as  spells  are  broken  by  a  holy  word,  or  as  the  ghost 
of  Protesilaus  vanished  before  the  earthly  passion  of  his  enam- 
ored widow. 

As  the  absence  of  discriminated  feeling  and  character  was  ne- 
cessary to  the  completeness  of  the  effect,  Mrs.  Radcliffe  sought  to 
produce,  so  she  was  rather  assisted  by  manners  peculiarly  straight- 
laced  and  timorous.  A  deep  vein  of  sentiment  would  have  sug- 
gested thoughts  and  emotions  inconsistent  with  that  "wise  passive- 
ness,"  in  which  the  mind  should  listen  to  the  soft  murmur  of  her 
"  most  musical,  most  melancholy"  spells.  A  moral  paradox  could 
not  coexist  with  a  haunted  tower  in  the  mind  of  her  readers.  The 
exceeding  coldness  and  prudence  of  her  heroines  do  not  abstract 
them  from  scenes  of  loveliness  and  terror,  through  which  we  de- 
sire to  follow  them.  If  her  scrupulous  sense  of  propriety  had 
not  restrained  her  comic  powers,  Mrs.  Radcliffe  would  probably 
have  displayed  considerable  taleht  for  the  humorous.  But  her 
talkative  servants  are  very  guarded  in  their  loquacity ;  and  even 
Annette,  quaintly  and  pleasantly  depicted,  fairly  belongs  to  the 
scene.  Her  old-fashioned  primness  of  thought,  which  with  her 
was  a  part  of  conscience,  with  all  its  cumbrous  accompaniments, 
serves  at  once  to  render  definite,  and  to  set  off,  her  fanciful  crea- 
tions. Romance,  as  exhibited  by  her,  "  tricked  in  antique  ruff 
and  bonnet,"  has  jret  eyes  of  youth;  and  the  beauty  is  not 
diminished  by  the  folds  of  the  brocade,  or  the  stiffness  of  the 
damask  stomacher. 

These  remarks  apply  in  their  fullest  effect,  only  to  "  The 
Mysteries  of  Udolpho,"  and  the  "  The  Italian,"  in  Avhich  alone 
the  chief  peculiarities  of  Mrs.  Radcliffe's  genius  are  decidedly 
marked.     In  her  first  work,  "  The  Castles  of  Athlin  and  Dun- 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  425 

bayne,"  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  discover  their  germ.  Its  scene 
is  laid  "  in  the  most  romantic  part  of  the  Highlands  of  Scotland," 
yet  it  is  without  local  truth  or  striking  picture.  It  is  at  once 
extravagant  and  cold.  Except  one  scene,  where  the  earl  of 
Athlin  pursues  two  strangers  through  the  vaults  of  his  castle, 
and  is  stabbed  by  one  of  them  in  the  darkness,  nothing  is  delin- 
eated ;  but  incredible  events  follow  each  other  in  quick  succes- 
sion, without  any  attempt  to  realize  them.  Those  who  complain 
of  the  minuteness  of  Mrs.  Radcliffe's  descriptions,  should  read 
this  work,  where  every  thing  passes  with  headlong  rapidity,  and 
be  convinced  of  their  error.  In  some  few  instances,  perhaps,  in 
"The  Mysteries  of  Udolpho,"  descriptions  of  external  scenery 
may  occur  too  often  :  but  her  best  style  is  essentially  pictorial ; 
and  a  slow  developement  of  events  was,  therefore,  necessary  to 
her  success. 

"  The  Sicilian  Romance"  is  a  work  of  much  more  "mark  and 
likelihood ;"  and,  very  soon  after  its  first  appearance,  attracted  a 
considerable  share  of  public  attention.  Here  the  softer  bland- 
ishments of  the  author's  style,  which  were  scarcely  perceptible 
in  her  first  production,  were  spread  forth  to  captivate  the  fancy. 
Transported  to  the  "  sweet  south,"  her  genius,  which  had 
shrunk  in  the  bleak  atmosphere  of  Scotland,  caught  the  luxu- 
rious spirit  of  a  happier  clime.  Never  was  a  title  more  justly 
applied  than  to  this  romance  ;  it  reminds  the  reader  of  "  Sicilian 
fruitfulness."  In  tender  and  luxurious  description  of  natural 
scenery,  it  is  surpassed  by  none  of  Mrs.  Radcliffe's  productions. 
The  flight  of  her  heroine  is  like  a  strain  of  "lengthened  sweet- 
ness long  drawn  out ;"  as  one  series  of  delicious  valleys  opens 
on  us  after  another;  and  the  purple  light  of  love  is  shed  over 
all.  Still  she  had  not  yet  acquired  a  mastery  over  her  own 
power  of  presenting  terrific  incidents  and  scenes  to  the  eye  of 
the  mind,  and  awakening  the  throbs  of  suspense  by  mysterious 
suggestions.  The  light  seen  through  the  closed  windows  of  the 
deserted  rooms,  the  confession  of  Vincent  stopped  by  death,  the 
groans  heard  from  beneath  Ferdinand's  prison,  and  the  figure 
perceived  stealing  among  the  vaults,  are  not  introduced  with 

sufficient  earnestness,  and  loose  all  claim  to  belief,  by  the  utter 

36* 


426  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

incredibility  of  the  incidents,  with  which  they  are  surrounded. 
Escapes,  recaptions,  encounters  with  fathers  and  banditti,  surpri- 
sing partings,  and  more  surprising  meetings,  follow  each  other 
as  quickly  as  the  changes  of  a  pantomime,  and  with  almost  as 
little  of  intelligible  connection.  One  example  may  suffice  :  Hip- 
politus  enters  a  ruin  by  moonlight,  for  shelter ;  hears  a  voice  as 
of  a  person  in  agony ;  sees,  through  a  shattered  casement,  a 
group  of  banditti  plundering  a  man,  Avho  turns  out  to  be  Ferdi- 
nand, his  intended  brother  in  law;  finds  himself,  he  knows  not 
how,  in  a  vault ;  hears  a  scream  from  an  inner  apartment ;  bursts 
open  the  door  and  discovers  a  lady  fainting,  whom  he  recognises 
as  his  mistress ;  overhears  a  quarrel  and  combat  for  the  lady, 
between  two  of  the  banditti,  w^hich  ends  in  the  death  of  one  of 
them ;  fights  with  the  survivor  and  kills  him ;  endeavors  to 
escape  with  Julia ;  finds  his  way  into  a  "  dark  abyss,"  which  is  no 
other  than  the  burial-place  of  the  victims  of  the  banditti,  marked 
with  graves,  and"  strewed  with  unburied  carcasses  ;  climbs  to  a 
grate,  and  witnesses  a  combat  between  the  robbers  and  officers 
of  justice;  escapes  with  the  lady  through  a  secret  door  into  the 
forest,  where  they  are  pursued  by  her  father's  party:  but  while 
he  fights  at  the  mouth  of  a  cavern,  she  looses  her  way  in  its  re- 
cesses, till  they  actually  conduct  her  to  the  dungeon  where  her 
mother,  who  had  been  considered  dead  for  fifteen  years,  is  im- 
prisoned ;  and  all  this  in  a  few  pages  !  There  are,  in  this  short 
story,  incidents  enough  for  two  such  works  as  "  The  Mysteries 
of  Udolpho,"  where,  as  in  that  great  romance,  they  should  not 
only  be  told,  but  painted ;  and  where  reality  and  grandeur  should 
be  given  to  their  terrors. 

In  "  The  Romance  of  the  Forest,"  Mrs.  RadclifTe,  who,  since 
the  dawn  of  her  powers,  had  been  as  one  "  moving  about  in 
w^orlds  unrealized,"  first  exhibited  the  faculty  of  controlling,  and 
fixing  the  wild  images  which  floated  around  her,  and  of  stamp- 
ing on  them  the  impress  of  consistency  and  truth.  This  work 
is,  as  a  whole,  the  most  faultless  of  all  her  productions ;  but,  it 
is  of  an  inferior  order  to  "  The  Mysteries  of  Udolpho,"  and 
"  The  Italian  ;"  and  can  only  be  preferred  by  those,  who  think 
the  absence  of  error,  of  more  importance  than  original  excel- 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  427 

lence.  There  is  a  just  proportion  between  all  its  parts  ;  its  mys- 
teries are  adequately  explained ;  it  excites  and  g-ratifies  a  very 
pleasant  degree  of  curiosity ;  but  it  does  not  seem  to  dilate  the 
imagination,  nor  does  it  curdle  the  blood.  Its  opening,  after  a 
sentence  of  marvellous  common-place,  is  striking :  the  midnight 
journey  of  La  Motte  and  his  family,  they  know  not  whither,  and 
the  introduction  of  the  heroine,  under  extraordinary  circum- 
stances, to  their  care,  rivet  attention  to  all  that  is  to  follow.  The 
scenes  in  the  forest  where  they  take  up  their  abode,  are  charm- 
ing. This  seems  the  most  delicious  asylum  fof  the  persecuted 
outlaw;  its  woodwalks  and  glades  glisten  before  us  with  the 
morning  dew;  and  there  is  something  in  the  idea  of  finding  a 
home  in  a  deserted  abbey,  which  answers  to  some  of  the  wildest 
dreams  of  childhood,  and  innocently  gratifies  that  partiality  for 
unlicensed  pleasure  or  repose,  which  is  so  natural  to  the  heart. 
The  whole  adventure  of  La  Motte  and  the  marquis  is  sufficiently 
probable  and  interesting ;  and  the  influence,  which  it  ultimately 
enables  the  more  resolute  villain  to  exercise  over  the  weaker,  is 
managed  with  peculiar  skill,  and  turned  to  great  account  in  the 
progress  of  the  story.  There  is  here  scarcely  any  hint  of  the 
supernatural ;  but  the  skeleton  in  the  chest  of  the  vaulted  cham- 
ber, the  dagger,  spotted  with  rust,  the  manuscript  of  the  pris- 
oner, w^hich  Adeline  reads  by  the  fitful  light  of  her  lamp,  and 
which  proves  to  be  Avritten  by  her  own  father,  possess  us  with 
the  apprehension  of  some  secret  crime,  which  acquires  impor- 
tance from  its  circumstances  and  its  mystery.  There  are  some 
highly  finished  scenes ;  as  that  where  Adeline,  in  her  solitary 
chamber,  dares  not  raise  her  eyes  to  her  glass,  lest  another  face 
than  her  o^^vn  should  meet  them;  her  escape  with  a  man  whom 
she  supposes  to  be  the  servant  she  had  trusted,  and  who  startles 
her  with  a  strange  voice ;  the  luxurious  pavilion  of  the  marquis, 
to  which  we  are  introduced  after  a  frightful  journey  through  a 
storm ;  and,  above  all,  the  conversation  in  vv^hich  the  marquis, 
after  a  series  of  dark  solicitations,  understood  by  La  Motte,  as 
pointing  to  Adeline's  dishonor,  proposes  her  death.  This  last, 
as  a  piece  of  dramatic  effect,  is  perhaps  equal  to  any  passage  in 
the   author's  works.     The  closing  chapters  of  the  work  are 


428  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

inferior  in  themselves  to  its  commencement ;  but  they  gratify,  by 
affording  a  Avorthj^^  solution  of  the  intricacies  of  a  plot,  which  has 
excited  so  deep  an  interest  in  its  progress. 

"  The  Mysteries  of  Udolpho,"  is  by  far  the  most  popular  of 
Mrs.  Radcliffe's  works.  To  this  preeminence,  it  is,  w^e  think, 
justly  entitled  :  for,  although  "  The  Italian,"  may  display  more 
purely  intellectual  power,  it  is  far  less  enchanting.  Of  all  the 
romances  in  the  world,  this  is  perhaps  the  most  romantic.  Its 
outline  is  noble,  it  is  filled  with  majestic  or  beautiful  imagery, 
and  it  is  touched  throughout  with  a  dreamy  softness,  which  har- 
monizes all  its  scenes,  and  renders  its  fascination  irresistible.  It 
rises  from  the  gentlest  beauty,  by  just  gradations,  to  the  terrific 
and  the  sublime.  Nothing  can  be  fancied  more  soothing  to  the 
mind,  fevered  with  the  bustle  of  the  Vv'orld,  than  the  picture  of 
domestic  repose  with  which  it  opens.  We  are  dwellers  in  the 
home  of  the  good  St.  Aubert,  who  has  retired  to  a  beautiful  spot, 
once  the  favorite  scene  of  his  youthful  excursions ;  and  sharers 
in  its  elegant  and  tranquil  pleasures.  Next  come  the  exquisite 
journey  of  the  father  and  daughter  through  the  heart  of  the  Py- 
renees, where  we  trace  out  every  variety  of  mountain  grandeur ; 
the  richly  colored  scene  of  vintage  gaiety  among  the  woods  of 
the  chateau  ;  and  the  death  of  St.  Aubert,  in  the  neighborhood 
of  a  place  which  we  understand  to  be  connected  with  his  destiny, 
and  where  strains  of  unearthly  music  are  heard  in  sad  accord- 
ance wath  human  sorrow.  When  Emily's  aunt,  to  whose  care 
she  is  consigned,  marries  the  desperate  Montoni,  we  feel  that 
the  clouds  are  gathering  round  her  progress,  and  we  shudder 
at  the  forebodings  of  approaching  peril.  A  little  interval  is 
given  among  the  luxuries  of  Venice,  which  are  painted  with 
exquisite  delicacy  and  lightness ;  and  then  the  work  of  terror 
begins.  Nothing  can  be  more  picturesque  than  the  ascent  of 
the  Appennines :  mountain  seems  to  rise  above  mountain  in 
gloomy  stateliness  before  us,  till  we  skirt  the  inmost  valley,  far 
shut  out  from  the  world,  and  Montoni,  breaking  a  long  silence, 
utters  the  charmed  words,  "  There  is  Udolpho  !"  The  ideas  of 
extent,  of  massiveness,  and  austere  grandeur,  conveyed  in  the 
description  of  the  castle,  have  matchless  force  and  distinctness, 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  429 

and  prepare  the  mind  for  the  crimes  and  wonders  of  which  it  is 
the  silent  witness.  Every  thing  beneath  "  these  dark  battle- 
ments" is  awful ;  the  slightest  incidents  wear  a  solemn  hue,  and 
"Fate  in  sullen  echoes"  seems  to  "tell  of  some  nameless  deed." 
Not  only  the  mysterious  appearances  and  sounds  appal  us,  but 
the  rushing  Avind,  a  rustling  curtain,  the  lonely  watch-word  on 
the  terrace,  have  power  to  startle,  and  keep  curiosity  aw^ake. 
The  whole  persecution  and  death  of  Madame  Montoni  seem 
prodigious,  as  though  they  were  something  out  of  nature;  yet 
they  derive  all  this  importance  from  the  circumstances  with 
which  they  are  invested ;  for  there  is  nothing  extraordinary  in 
the  fate  of  a  despicable  woman,  worried  into  the  grave  by  her 
husband,  because  she  will  not  give  up  her  settlement.  The 
mysteries  of  "  Chateau  le  Blanc"  are  less  majestic  than  those  of 
Udolpho,  but  perhaps  they  are  even  more  touching ;  at  least, 
the  visit  of  Emily  to  the  chamber  where  the  marchioness  died, 
twenty  years  before,  not  without  suspicion  of  poison,  and  which 
had  been  shut  up  ever  since,  is  affecting  and  fearful.  The  faded 
magnificence  of  the  vast  apartment ;  the  black  pall  lying  on  the 
bed,  as  when  it  decked  the  corpse ;  the  robe  and  articles  of  dress 
remaining  as  they  had  been  carelessly  scattered  in  the  lifetime 
of  their  owner ;  her  veil,  which  hand  had  never  approached 
since,  now  dropping  into  pieces ;  her  lute  on  the  table,  as  it  was 
touched  on  the  evening  of  her  death,  would  be  solemn  and  spec- 
tral, even  if  the  pall  did  not  move  and  g.  face  arise  from  beneath 
it.  This  scene  derives  a  tender  interest  from  the  stransfe  likeness 
which  Emily  seems  to  bear  to  the  deceased  lady,  and  which  is 
artfully  heightened  by  the  action  of  the  old  housekeeper,  throw- 
ing the  black  veil  over  her,  and  by  her  touching  the  long  neg- 
lected lute.  Such  are  some  among  the  many  striking  features 
of  this  romance ;  its  defects  are  great  and  obvious.  Its  myste- 
ries are  not  only  resolved  into  natural  causes,  but  are  explained 
by  circumstances  provokingly  trivial.  What  reader  would  bear 
to  be  told  that  the  black  veil,  from  which  his  imagination  has 
scarcely  been  allowed  to  turn  for  three  volumes,  conceals  a  waxen 
image ;  that  the  wild  music,  which  has  chanced  to  float  on  the 
air  in  all  the  awful  pauses  of  action,  proceeded  from  an  insane 


430  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

nun,  permitted  to  wander  about  the  woods  ;  and  that  the  words, 
which  startled  Montoni  and  his  friends,  at  their  guilty  carousals, 
were  uttered  by  a  man  wandering  through  a  secret  passage, 
almost  without  motive :  unless  the  power  and  sweetness  of  the 
spell  remained  after  it  was  thus  rudely  broken  ? 

"  The  Italian"  has  more  unity  of  plan  than  "  The  Mysteries 
of  Udolpho ;"  and  its  pictures  are  more  individual  and  distinct ; 
but  it  has  far  less  tenderness  and  beauty.  Its  very  introduction, 
unlike  the  gentle  opening  of  the  former  romance,  impresses  the 
reader  with  awe.  Its  chief  agent,  Schedoni,  is  most  vividly 
painted;  and  yet  the  author  contrives  to  invest  him  with  a 
mystery,  which  leads  us  to  believe,  that  even  her  image  is  in- 
adequate to  the  reality.  Up  to  the  period,  at  which  he  unnatu- 
rally melts  from  demon  to  man,  he  is  always  the  chief  figure 
when  he  is  present ;  and,  where  we  do  not  see  him,  his  spirit 
yet  seems  to  influence  all  around  us.  The  great  scenes  of  this 
romance  stand  out  in  bold  relief  as  in  compartments ;  of  which 
the  chief  are  the  adventures  in  the  vaults  of  Pallozzi ;  the  ma- 
chinations of  Schedoni  and  the  marchioness,  for  the  destruction 
of  the  heroine;  her  confinement  in  the  monastery  of  San  Ste- 
phano,  and  her  escape  with  Vivaldi ;  her  terrible  sojourn  in 
Spalatro's  cottage  on  the  sea-shore,  and  the  whole  representation 
of  the  Inquisition,  which  fills  the  mind  when  Schedoni's  supre- 
macy ceases.  Of  these,  perhaps  the  very  finest  is  the  scene  in 
the  church,  where  the  confessor  makes  palpable  to  the  mar- 
chioness the  secret  wishes  of  her  heart  for  Ellena's  death ;  the 
situation  is  essentially  fearful,  and  all  the  circumstances  are 
contrived  with  admirable  effect,  to  heighten,  vary,  and  prolong 
the  feeling  of  curiosity  and  terror.  The  dreary  horrors  of  the 
fisherman's  cottage  are  admirably  painted  ;  but  the  effort  to  pro- 
duce a  great  theatrical  effect  is  very  imperfectly  concealed ;  and 
we  cannot  help  being  somewhat  dissatisfied  with  the  process  of 
bringing  a  helpless  orphan  to  such  a  distance,  merely  that  she 
may  be  murdered  with  eclat ;  with  the  equally  unaccountable 
delay  in  performing  the  deed,  the  strange  relentings  of  the 
ruffian,  and  the  long  preparation  which  precedes  the  attempt  of 
Schedoni  to  strike  the  fatal  blow.     There  is  great  art  in  the 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY,  431 

scene,  to  which  all  this  is  introductory ;  and  the  discovery  of 
the  portrait  is  a  most  striking  coup  de  theatre ;  hut  the  art  is 
too  palpable,  and  the  contrast  between  the  assassin  and  the  father 
too  violent ;  at  least  for  a  second  perusal.  Not  so,  the  graphic 
descriptions  of  the  vast  prisons  of  the  Inquisition  ;  they  are  dim, 
prodigious,  apparently  eternal ;  and  the  style  is  solemn  and 
weighty  as  the  subject.  Mrs.  Radcliffe  alone  could  have  deep- 
ened the  horror  of  this  gloom  by  whispers  of  things  yet  more 
terrible ;  and  suggest  fears  of  the  unseen,  w^hich  should  overcome 
the  present  apprehensions  of  bodily  torture. 

In  her  own  peculiar  style  of  composition,  Mrs.  Radclifie  has 
never  been  approached.  Her  success  naturally  drew  forth  a 
crowd  of  imitators,  who  produced  only  cumbrous  caricatures, 
in  which  the  terrors  are  without  decorum,  and  the  explanations 
absolutely  farcical.  No  successful  writer  has  followed  her 
without  calling  to  aid  other  means,  which  she  would  not  con- 
descend to  use.  The  author  of  "  The  Monk,"  mingled  a  sickly 
voluptuousness  with  his  terrors  ;  and  Maturin,  full  of  "  rich  con- 
ceits," approached  the  borders  of  the  forbidden  in  speculation, 
and  the  paradoxical  in  morals.  She  only,  of  all  writers  of  ro- 
mance, who  have  awed  and  affected  the  public  mind,  by  hints 
of  things  unseen,  has  employed  enchantments  purely  innocent ; 
has  forborne  to  raise  one  questionable  throb,  or  call  forth  a  mo- 
mentary blush.  This  is  the  great  test,  not  only  of  moral  feeling, 
but  of  intellectual  power ;  and  in  this  will  be  found  her  highest 
praise. 


Elizabeth  Rowe,  eldest  daughter  cf  Mr.  Walter  Singer, 
was  born,  September  14th,  1674,  at  Ilchester,  in  Somersetshire, 
She  gave  early  promise  of  those  talents  and  amiable  qualities  by 
which  she  was  afterwards  distinguished.  Her  father,  who  beheld 
with  pleasure  the  fertility  of  her  mind,  spared  no  pains  in  its 
cultivation.  She  imbibed,  from  her  parents,  devotional  senti- 
ments, Avhich  operating  upon  a  susceptible  temper,  a  lively  ima- 
gination, and  an  affectionate  heart,  gave  an  enthusiastic  turn  to 
her  character  and  compositions.  She  displayed  in  her  child- 
hood, a  taste  for  the  arts.     Painting,  drawing,  and  music,  alter- 


432  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

nately  engaged  her  attention ;  but  the  bent  of  her  genius  was 
more  particularly  directed  to  the  cultivation  of  poetry.  She  began 
to  write  verses  at  twelve  years  of  age ;  and  in  her  twenty-second 
year,  she  published,  at  the  desire  of  two  of  her  friends,  a  col- 
lection of  poems  on  various  occasions.  These  productions  were 
principally  on  religious  subjects ;  and  those  of  a  lighter  cast 
were  unexceptionable  for  the  purity  of  their  sentiment ;  yet  so 
scrupulous  did  the  author  become,  as  she  advanced  into  life,  that 
she  recollected,  with  regret  and  uneasiness,  the  sportive  sallies 
of  her  youthful  muse.  Her  moral  sense  was  so  exquisitely  deli- 
cate, that,  not  to  have  injured  the  cause  of  virtue,  appeared  to  her 
an  insufficient  plea;  while  she  cherished  a  species  of  remorse  for 
having  written  any  thing  by  which  it  was  not  directly  promoted. 

Her  poetical  talents  introduced  her,  before  she  had  completed 
her  twentieth  year,  to  the  family  of  Lord  Weymouth,  who  became 
her  kind  and  liberal  patrons,  and  whose  friendship  she  enjoyed 
through  life.  Her  paraphrase  of  the  thirty-eighth  chapter  of 
Job,  by  which  she  acquired  reputation,  was  written  at  the  request 
of  bishop  Ken,  who  resided,  at  that  time,  in  the  Weymouth 
family.  The  Hon.  Mr.  Thyme,  son  to  Lord  Weymouth,  took 
upon  himself  the  task  of  instructing  her  in  the  French  and 
Italian  languages.  She  improved  rapidly  from  the  lessons  of 
her  noble  and  friendly  preceptor,  being,  in  a  few  months,  enabled 
to  read  with  great  ease  the  "Jerusalem"  of  Tasso. 

In  the  year  1710,  she  married  Mr.  Thomas  Rowe.  He  was 
thirteen  years  younger  than  his  bride ;  possessed  with  a  supe- 
rior understanding,  considerable  learning,  a  highly  cultivated 
mind,  and  an  amiable  temper.  A  marriage  between  two  per- 
sons, united  by  congenial  acquirements,  sentiments,  and  virtues, 
notwithstanding  the  disparity  of  years,  could  scarcely  fail  of 
proving  happy.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rowe  passed  five  years  in  the 
most  perfect  harmony,  confidence,  and  affection.  He  died  in 
1715,  in  the  twenty-eighth  year  of  his  age,  of  consumption. 

On  his  disease,  her  love  of  solitude  revived,  and  having  set- 
tled her  affairs,  she  removed  to  Frome,  in  Somersetshire,  the 
scene  of  her  youthful  pleasures.  In  this  seclusion  she  composed 
her  "  Friendship  in  Death,"  in  twenty  letters  from  the  dead  to 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY  433. 

the  living.  Also,  her  "  Letters,  Moral  and  Entertaining,"  in 
prose  and  verse.  These  productions,  which  display  great  sensi- 
bility of  heart,  a  lively  imagination,  and  a  visionary  turn  of  mind, 
were  translated  into  French,  and  published  at  Amsterdam,  in 
1740.  All  the  writings  of  Mrs.  Rowe  breathe  a  spirit  of  benevo- 
lence, of  purity,  and  of  virtue,  animated  by  a  raised  and  enthusi- 
astic devotion. 

She  possessed  a  command  over  her  passions,  and  a  constant 
serenity  and  sweetness  of  temper,  which  neither  age  nor  misfor- 
tune, could  sour  or  ruffle.  It  is  questioned  whether  she  had  ever 
been  angry  in  her  life ;  a  proof  that  the  tender  and  gentle  sen- 
sibilities may  exist  independent  of  the  irascible  passions.  She 
knew  not  indignation,  except  against  vice,  where  indifference  is 
almost  criminal.  To  firm  principles,  and  an  elevated  mind,  she 
added  the  softness  and  graces  of  her  sex.  She  expressed,  on  all 
occasions,  an  aversion  to  satire,  so  rarely  free  from  malice  and 
personality;  her  conversation,  like  her  writings,  was  the  effu- 
sion of  a  benevolent  and  amiable  mind.  She  possessed  peculiar 
powers  of  conversation,  an  inexhaustible  fancy  flowing  language, 
the  most  perfect  ingeniousness,  with  unaffected  sweetness  and 
ease.  She  had  no  taste  for  what  is  called  pleasure ;  she  mixed 
in  no  parties  of  dissipation,  was  ignorant  of  any  game,  and 
avoided  formal  and  insipid  visitings.  Temperate,  cheerful^ 
friendly,  and  affectionate,  she  sought  and  found  her  happiness 
in  intellectual  pursuits,  the  exercise  of  her  affections,  and  the 
enjoyment  of  simple  pleasures.  She  had  a  contempt  for  riches^ 
was  content  with  a  moderate  income,  nor  would  avail  herself  of 
those  pecuniary  advantages  to  which,  by  her  labors,  she  was.  justly 
entitled.  The  calm  and  uniform  tenor  of  her  life,  her  active 
virtues,  and  happy  constitution,  produced  a  perpetual  sunshine 
of  the  mind,  that  diffused  itself  over  all  around  her,  and  mad© 
her  most  distant  dependent  happy. 

On  the  day  previous  to  her  decease  she  appeared  in  perfect 
health  and  vigor ;  and  after  conversing  with  a  friend,  with  unu- 
sual vivacity,  retired  to  her  chamber  early  in  the  evening.  On 
the  ensuing  morning,  February  20th,  1737,  she  expired.  Her 
disorder  was  pronounced  to  be  an  apoplexy.     Her  life  had  been 

37 


434  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

tranquil,  and  except  in  the  loss  of  her  husband,  unclouded,  and 
her  death  was  happy. 

Madame  Roland.  This  admirable  woman,  the  heroine  of 
the  French  revolution,  and  the  martyr  of  liberty,  was  born  in  an 
obscure  station,  the  daughter  of  Gatien  Philopon,  an  artist.  In 
childhood  she  was  docile,  and  she  quickly  seized  every  idea 
that  was  presented  to  her.  "  This  disposition,"  says  she,  "was 
turned  to  so  good  an  account,  that  I  never  remember  having 
been  taught  to  read.  At  four  years  old  the  business  was  in  a 
manner  completed ;  all  that  was  necessary  in  future,  was  only 
to  supply  me  with  books,  which,  whenever  they  were  put  into 
my  hands,  were  sure  to  engross  all  my  attention,  which  nothing 
but  a  nosegay  could  divert.  Under  the  tranquil  shelter  of  my 
paternal  roof,  I  was  happy  from  my  infancy,  with  flowers  and 
books.  In  the  narrow  confines  of  a  prison,  amidst  chains,  im- 
posed by  the  most  shocking  tyranny,  I  forgot  the  injustice  of 
men,  their  follies,  and  my  own  misfortunes,  with  books  and 
flowers." 

The  parents  of  Mademoiselle  Philopon,  availed  themselves  of 
her  studious  turn,  to  put  into  her  hands  the  catechisms,  with 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  while  she  learned  with  facility 
every  thing  which  was  taught  her.  She  became  so  enthusias- 
tic, that  she  wished  to  retire  from  the  world,  and  the  silence  and 
solitude  of  a  cloister  presented  a  grand  and  romantic  image  of 
sacrifice  and  seclusion,  w^hich  seized  on  her  imagination,  and 
captivated  her  senses.  "  While  pressing  my  dear  mother  in 
my  arms,"  say?^  she,  "at  the  moment  of  our  first  separation,  I 
thought  my  heart  would  have  burst,  but  I  was  acting  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  voice  of  God,  and  passed  the  threshold  of  the  clois- 
ter, offering  up  to  him  with  tears  the  greatest  sacrifices  I  was 
capable  of  making.  This  was  the  seventh  of  May,  1765,  when 
I  was  eleven  years  and  two  months  old.  How,"  added  she, 
'•  shall  I  recall  to  my  mind,  in  the  gloom  of  a  prison,  and  amidst 
commotions  which  ravage  my  country,  and  sweep  away  all  that 
is  dear  to  me,  that  period  of  rapture,  and  tranquility  ?  What 
lively  colors  can  express  the  soft  emotions  of  a  young  heart, 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  435 

endued  with  tenderness  and  sensibility,  greedy  of  happiness 
awakening  to  the  feelings  of  nature,  and  perceiving  only  the 
Deity." 

She  was  one  year  in  the  convent,  and  her  thirteenth  year 
glided  tranquilly  away  under  the  roof  of  her  grandmother ;  the 
quiet  of  whose  house  accorded  with  the  tender  and  contem- 
plative disposition  which  she  had  brought  with  her  from  the 
convent. 

Her  grandmother's  little  library  was  laid  by  her  under  con- 
tribution, while  the  Philotee  of  St.  Francis  de  Sales,  and  the 
Manual  of  St.  Augustin,  became  her  favorite  studies.  The  con- 
troversial writings  of  Bossuet,  which,  about  this  period,  fell  into 
her  hands,  furnished  fresh  food  for  her  mind  ;  while,  in  defending 
the  faith,  they  let  her  into  the  secret  of  the  objections  opposed  to 
it,  and  led  her  to  investigate  the  grounds  of  her  belief  This 
first  step  gradually  conducted  her,  in  a  course  of  years,  after 
having  been  Jansenist,  Cartesian,  stoic,  and  deist,  to  complete 
scepticism.  "  What  a  route,"  observes  she,  "to  terminate  at  last 
in  patriotism,  which  has  brought  me  to  a  dungeon." 

At  the  age  of  twenty  she  lost  her  mother,  and  her  studies 
constituted  her  only  consolation.  "  Left  more  than  ever  by  my- 
self," says  she,  "  and  often  in  a  melancholy  humor,  I  felt  the  ne- 
cessity of  writing.  I  loved  to  render  to  myself  an  account  of 
my  own  ideas,  and  to  enlighten  them  by  the  intervention  of  my 
pen.  When  not  employed  in  this  way,  I  revised  still  more  than 
I  meditated.  Never,"  says  she,  "  did  I  feel  the  slightest  tempta- 
tion to  become  an  author,  I  perceived  at  a  very  early  period,  that 
a  woman  who  acquires  this  title,  loses  more  than  she  gains. 
The  men  do  not  like,  and  her  own  sex  criticise  her.  If  her 
works  are  bad,  she  is  ridiculed,  if  good,  she  is  bereaved  of  the 
reputation  annexed  to  them.  If  the  public  are  forced  to  ac- 
knowledge that  she  has  talents,  they  sift  her  character,  her  mo- 
rals, her  conduct,  and  balance  the  reputation  of  her  genius  by 
the  publicity  which  they  give  to  her  errors." 

At  the  age  of  twenty-five  she  married  M.  Roland,  a  distin- 
guished author,  who  was  twenty  years  older  than  herself  The 
first  year  of  their  marriage  was  spent  in  Paris,  where  she  was 


436  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

employed  as  an  amanuensis  to  her  husband,  and  the  corrector 
of  his  proofs,  a  task  however,  little  suited  to  her  cultivated  mind, 
which  she  fulfilled  with  humility  and  exactness.  After  the  busi- 
ness of  a  secretary  and  housekeeper  was  finished,  this  excellent 
Avife,  finding  the  state  of  her  husband's  health  to  be  delicate, 
condescended  to  prepare  for  him,  with  her  own  hands,  the  viands 
that  suited  him  best ;  she  filled  up  the  remainder  of  her  time 
with  the  study  of  botany  and  natural  history,  of  which  she  en- 
tered into  a  course. 

After  leaving  Paris,  they  spent  four  years  in  Amiens,  where 
Madame  Roland  performed  the  duties  of  a  nurse  and  a  mother, 
without  ceasing  to  participate  in  the  labors  of  her  husband,  who 
was  charged  with  a  considerable  poriion  of  the  New  Encyclo- 
pedia. In  1784,  Monsieur  and  Madam  Roland  removed  to  the 
city  of  Lyons,  and  settled  at  Villefranche.  This  year  they 
made  the  tour  of  England,  and  in  1787,  that  of  Switzerland; 
they  also  visited  several  parts  of  France,  and  had  projected  a 
visit  to  Italy. 

M.  Roland,  being  chosen  deputy  extraordinary  to  the  constit- 
uent assembly,  arrived  with  his  family  in  Paris,  in  February, 
1791.  Here  she  became  acquainted  with  Robespierre,  Brissot, 
and  other  actors  in  the  revolution.  Roland  was  appointed  min- 
ister for  the  home  department,  for  which  his  indefatigable  indus- 
try, readiness  in  business,  and  methodical  habits,  well  fitted  him. 
He  was  too  patriotic  however,  to  retain  the  office  long.  "Utility 
and  glory,"  says  madame  Roland,  "  were  the  consequences  of 
my  husbands  retreat.  I  had  not  been  proud  of  his  elevation  to 
the  ministry,  but  I  was  proud  of  his  disgrace." 

With  the  revolution  of  the  tenth  of  August,  every  one  is  ac- 
quainted. Roland  was  recalled  to  the  ministry,  which  he  re-en- 
tered with  renovated  hopes.  The  horrible  scenes  of  massacre 
which  followed  in  September,  compelled  Mr.  Roland  to  resign. 
His  resignation  did  not,  however,  appease  his  blood-thirsty  ene- 
mies, who  surrounded  his  house  for  the  purpose  of  imprisoning 
him.  His  wife  here  performed  a  masculine  part ;  she  flew  to 
the  convention  to  defend  her  husband.  He  fled  from  their 
rapacity,  but  she  was  taken  and  conducted  to  prison. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  437 

The  wife  of  the  keeper  made  some  civil  observations,  express- 
ive of  the  regret  which  she  felt  when  a  prisoner  of  her  own  sex 
arrived,  "for,"  added  she,  "they  have  not  all  your  serene  coun- 
tenance." Madame  Roland  thanked  her  with  a  smile,  while  she 
locked  her  in  a  room,  hastily  put  in  order  for  her  reception. 
"  Well  then,"  said  she,  seating  herself  and  falling  into  a  train  of 
reflections,  "  I  am  in  prison."  The  moments  that  followed,  she 
declares,  she  would  not  have  exchano-ed  for  those  which  mig^ht 
be  esteemed  by  others  as  the  happiest  of  her  life,  "  I  recalled 
the  past  to  my  mind,  I  calculated  the  events  of  the  future.  I 
devoted  myself,  if  I  may  so  say,  voluntarily  to  my  destiny,  what- 
ever it  might  be ;  I  defied  its  vigor,  and  fixed  myself  firmly  in 
that  state  of  mind,  in  which,  without  giving  ourselves  concern 
for  what  is  to  come,  we  seek  only  employment  for  the  present." 

Madame  Roland  had  been  induced,  by  her  love  of  order  and 

habits  of  regularity,  to  enquire  into  the  customs  and  expenses  of 

the  prison,  which  she  was  desirous  rigidly  to  observe.     She 

seemed  to  take  a  pleasure  in  making  trials  of  her  fortitude,  and 

in  inuring  herself  to  privations.     She  determined,  therefore,  to 

make  an  experiment  how  far  the  human  mind  is  capable  of 

diminishing  gradually  the  wants  of  the  body.     She  began  by 

substituting,  in  the  place  of  coflee  and  chocolate,  bread  and  water, 

for  breakfast.     For  her  dinner,  she  desired  to  have  one  plain 

dish  of  meat,  with  a  few  vegetables,  and  vegetables  also  for  her 

supper  without  a  dessert.     She  likewise  relinquished  both  wine 

and  beer.     As  her  purpose,  in  adopting  this  conduct,,  was  moral 

rather  than  economical,  she  appropriated  the  sums  thus  saved  for 

the  relief  of  those  miserable  wretches  who  were  lying  on  straw, 

that  while  eating  her  dry  bread  in  the  morning,  she  might  have 

the  pleasure  of  reflecting  that,  by  this  deprivation,  she  was  adding 

to  their  dinner.     "  If  I  remain  here  six  months,"  said  she,  "  I 

will  engage  to  leave  the  place  with  a  healthy  complexion,  and  a 

body  by  no  means  emaciated  ;  having  reduced  my  wants  so  far 

as  to  be  satisfied  with  bread  and  soup,  with  a  few  benedictions 

incognito^     She  also  made  little  presents  to  the  servants  of 

the  prison,  that  her  economy  might  not  prove  injurious  to  them. 

By  these  means  she  considered  that  she  rendered  her  inde- 

3r 


433  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

pendence  more  perfect,  and  v;as  at  the  same  time  a  gainer  in 
good  will. 

From  this  prison  she  was  removed  to  another,  the  prison  of 
St.  Pelagie,  where  she  employed  her  time  in  composing  her 
"  Historical  Memoirs."  In  the  morning  she  studied  English, 
in  Shaftsbury's  "  Essay  on  Virtue,"  and  in  the  poetry  of  Thom- 
son, by  whom  she  was  transported  by  turns  to  the  sublime 
regions  of  intellect,  and  to  the  affecting  scenes  of  nature. 

It  was  about  this  period  that,  to  divert  the  vexation  of  her 
mind,  she  determined  on  writing  a  narrative  of  her  life.  "  I 
should  despise  myself,"  says  this  truly  philosophical  and  heroic 
woman,  "  did  I  suffer  my  mind  to  sink  in  any  circumstances. 
In  all  the  troubles  I  have  experienced,  the  most  lively  impres- 
sions of  sorrow  has  been  almost  immediately  accompanied  by 
the  ambition  of  opposing  my  strength  to  the  evil,  and  of  sur- 
mounting it,  either  by  doing  good  to  others,  or  by  exerting  to 
the  uttermost  my  fortitude.  My  '  Historic  Notices'  are  gone. 
I  mean  to  write  my  memoirs ;  and  prudently  accommodating 
myself  to  my  weakness,  at  a  moment  when  my  feelings  are 
acute,  I  shall  talk  of  my  own  person,  that  my  thoughts  may  be 
the  less  at  home.  I  shall  exhibit  my  virtues  and  my  faults  wath 
equal  freedom.  He  who  dares  not  speak  well  of  himself,  is 
almost  always  a  coward,  who  knows  and  dreads  the  ill  that  may 
be  spoken  of  him ;  and  he  who  hesitates  to  confess  his  faults, 
has  neither  spirit  lo  vindicate,  nor  virtue  to  repair  them." 

She  passed  five  months  in  prison,  and  with,  the  exception  of 
two  or  three  real  friends,  whom  the  terrors  of  the  place  did  not 
prevent  from  coming  to  bewail  with  her  the  misfortunes  of 
France,  no  one  expressed  the  least  degree  of  pity  or  interest  in 
her  fate.  Neither  in  the  journals,  nor  in  the  publications  of  the 
day,  was  a  single  remonstrance,  or  a  single  word,  written  in 
her  behalf 

A  few  days  before  madame  Roland  was  dragged  to  the  scaf- 
fold, "  If  fate,"  said  she,  "  had  allo^ved  me  to  live,  there  was  one 
thing  only  of  w^hich  I  should  be  ambitious,  that  of  writing  the 
annals  of  the  present  age,  and  of  becoming  the  Macaulay  of  my 
country.     I  have,  during  my  confinement,  conceived  a  real  fond- 


FEMA.LE    BIOGRAPHY.  439 

ness  for  Tacitus,  and  cannot  go  to  rest  till  I  have  read  a  passage 
of  his  works.  It  seems  to  me,  we  see  things  in  the  same  light, 
and  that,  in  time,  and  with  a  subject  equally  rich,  it  would  not 
have  been  impossible  for  me  to  have  imitated  his  style." 

After  ihe  two  and  twenty  deputies  were  condemned  to  the 
scaffold,  Madame  Roland  considered  theirs  as  a  presage  of  her 
own  fate.  Though  resigned  to  death,  she  felt  repugnant  to  be- 
coming a  spectacle  to  the  savage  curiosity  of  a  ferocious  multi- 
tude. She  beheld  its  approach  with  unaffected  tranquillity.  She 
suffered  her  hair  to  be  cut  ofi^  and  her  hands  to  be  bound,  with- 
out a  murmur  or  a  complaint.  She  traversed  Paris,  amidst  the 
insults  of  the  populace,  and  received  death  with  heroic  firmness. 
She  seemed  even  to  experience  a  degree  of  pleasure  in  this  last 
sacrifice  to  her  country.  She  expressed  in  dying,  a  wish  to 
transmit  to  posterity,  the  new  and  extraordinary  sensations 
which  she  experienced,  on  her  road  from  the  Conciergerie  to 
the  Place  de  la  Revolution.  For  this  purpose,  when  at  the  foot 
of  the  scaffold,  she  demanded  pen  and  paper,  w^hich  were  refused 
to  her.  Her  last  moments  are  thus  described  by  Riouffe,  who 
was  detained  at  the  Conciergerie,  when  madame  Roland  arrived, 

"  The  blood  of  the  twenty-tAvo  was  not  yet  cold,  when  citizeness 
Rolaad  was  brought  to  the  Conciergerie ;  aware  of  the  fate  that 
awaited  her,  her  peace  of  mind  remained  undisturbed.  Though 
past  the  prime  of  life,  she  was  still  a  charming  Avoman ;  her 
person  was  tall  and  elegantly  formed,  her  countenance  animated 
and  very  expressive:  but  misfortune  and  confinement  had  im- 
pressed on  her  mind  traces  of  melancholy,  which  tempered  its 
vivacity.  In  a  body  moulded  by  grace,  and  fashioned  by  courtly 
politeness,  she  possessed  a  republican  soul.  Something  more 
than  is  generally  found  in  the  eyes  of  women  w^as  painted  in 
hers,  which  were  large,  dark,  and  full  of  softness  and  intelli- 
gence. She  often  spoke  to  me  at  the  grate  with  the  freedom 
and  firmness  of  a  great  man;  while  we  all  stood  listening 
around  her  in  admiration  and  astonishment.  On  the  day  of  her 
condemnation,  she  was  neatly  dressed  in  white,  her  long  black 
hair  flowing  loosely  to  her  waist.  At  the  place  of  execution, 
she  bowed  before  the  statue  of  liberty,  while  she  exclaimedj 


440  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

•Oh  liberty,  what  crimes  are  committed  in  thy  name!'  She 
frequently  said  her  husband  would  not  survive  her;  which  pre- 
diction was  accomplished,  for  he  ran  himself  though  the  body 
with  a  SAvord,  on  the  road  from  Rouen." 

In  a  letter,  written  the  day  previous  to  her  death,  she  says, 
*' To-morrow,  according  to  the  accounts  brought  us  from  all 
quarters,  and  the  preparations  made  long  since,  may  be  the  last 
day  of  our  lives.  I  am  what  you  have  always  known  me,  de- 
voted to  my  duties  which  I  love,  appreciating  life  for  the  bless- 
ings of  nature,  and  the  enjoyments  of  virtue.  I  am  too  much 
habituated  to  despise  death,  to  fear,  or  to  fly  from  it.  I  leave  my 
daughter  good  examples,  and  a  memory  ever  dear  to  her.  May 
she  judge,  feel,  and  avail  herself  of  every  thing  with  a  con- 
science always  pure  and  a  soul  as  expansive,  as  have  been  those 
of  her  parents." 

Radhia,  a  Moorish  Spaniard  of  Corduba,  the  freedwoman  of 
king  Adelrahman,  who  wrote  many  volumes  on  rhetoric.  She  is 
said  to  have  lived  one  hundred  and  seven  years,  and  to  have  died 
in  the  year  1044. 

Ruth,  a  Moabitess,  the  widow  of  Mahlon,  an  Israelite,  whose 
interesting  history  is  recorded  in  the  Old  Testament,  and  has 
been  imitated  by  Thompson,  in  his  history  of  Palemon  and 
Lavinia. 

During  the  period  in  which  the  judges  ruled  over  the  children 
of  Israel,  there  was  a  grievous  famine  in  the  land.  Among 
great  numbers,  who  left  their  habitations  to  seek  bread  in  other 
countries,  a  certain  man  of  Bethlehem  Judah,  named  Elimelech, 
went  to  sojourn  in  the  country  of  Moab.  He  took  with  him  his 
wife,  whose  name  was  Naomi,  and  his  two  sons  ;  and  soon  after 
their  arrival,  the  two  young  men  married  two  Moabitish  women, 
the  name  of  one  of  whom  was  Orpah,  and  the  other  Ruth. 

After  a  residence  of  ten  years,  during  which  time  Naomi  bu- 
ried her  husband  and  her  two  sons,  she  determined  to  return  to 
her  own  native  country.  But,  concluding  it  would  not  be  agree- 
able to  her  two  daughters  in  law  to  leave  the  place  of  their  na- 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  441 

tivity,  and  follow  her  into  a  strange  land,  she  desired  them  just 
before  her  departure,  to  return  each  to  her  mother's  house.  "  And 
may  the  Lord  deal  kindly  with  you,"  said  the  good  old  woman, 
"as  ye  have  dealt  with  the  dead,  and  me!"  She  then  tenderly 
embraced  them. 

Affected  by  this  regardful  behavior  of  their  mother  in  law, 
Orpah  and  Ruth  both  wept,  and  said,  "  Surely  we  will  return 
with  thee  unto  thy  people."  But  Naomi  continuing  to  dissuade 
them,  Orpah  was  at  length  prevailed  on  to  remain  with  her 
mother.  Ruth,  however,  would  not  listen  to  any  calls  but  those 
of  tenderness  for  Naomi.  "  Intreat  me  not  to  leave  thee,"  said 
she  to  her,  "  or  to  return  from  following  after  thee ;  for  w^hither 
thou  goest,  I  will  go,  and  where  thou  lodgest,  I  will  lodge;  thy 
people  shall  be  my  people,  and  thy  God,  my  God ;  where  thou 
diest  will  I  die,  and  there  will  I  be  buried,  and  the  Lord  do  so  to 
me,  and  more  also,  if  aught  but  death  part  thee  and  me."  After 
this  emphatic  and  determined  declaration,  Naomi  no  longer 
opposed  Ruth's  going  with  her. 

When  they  arrived  at  Bethlehem,  they  appear  to  have  been 
in  such  distressed  circumstances,  that  Naomi,  upon  hearing  her 
old  acquaintance  exclaim,  "  Is  not  this  Naomi?"  replied,  "  Call 
me  not  Naomi,  but  Mara,  for  the  Almighty  hath  dealt  bitterly 
with  me.     I  went  out  full,  and  am  returned  empty." 

In  the  same  city  lived  a  young  man,  whose  name  was  Boaz  ; 
he  was  nearly  related  to  Elimelech,  Naomi's  late  husband,  and 
was  a  person  of  great  wealth.  It  being  now  the  beginning  of  the 
barley  harvest,  Ruth  proposed  to  her  mother  in  law,  as  the  most 
probable  means  of  procuring  a  present  subsistence,  that  she 
should  suffer  her  to  go  into  the  fields  belonging  to  Boaz,  and 
there  to  glean  after  his  reapers,  hoping  to  find  greater  indul- 
gence from  one  to  whom  they  were  related  than  from  a  stranger. 
Having  received  Naomi's  permission,  and  dressed  herself  as 
decently  as  her  present  circumstances  would  allow,  Ruth  went 
as  proposed  into  the  fields.  Her  beauty  and  comeliness  did  not 
long  remain  unobserved  by  Boaz.  Seeing  a  stranger,  he  in- 
quired who  she  was,  and  being  informed,  treated  her  with  great 
kindness;   not  only  allowing  her  to  glean,  but  ordering  the 


442  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

reapers  now  and  then  to  let  fall  a  handful  on  purpose  for  her. 
When  he  had  learned,  from  some  of  his  servants,  the  whole 
of  her  story,  he  graciously  accosted  her,  saying,  "  It  has  been 
shown  unto  me  all  that  thou  hast  done  unto  thy  mother  in  law, 
since  the  death  of  thy  husband,  and  how  thou  bast  left  thy  father 
and  thy  mother,  and  the  land  of  thy  nativity,  and  art  come  unto 
a  people  which  thou  knewest  not  heretofore.  The  Lord  recom- 
pense thy  works,  and  a  full  reward  be  given  thee  of  the  Lord 
of  Israel,  under  whose  wings  thou  art  come  to  trust."  Having 
said  this,  he  gave  directions  that  she  should  partake  of  what  was 
prepared  for  his  people,  and  be  permitted  to  pursue  her  employ- 
ment as  long  as  the  harvest  lasted.  Ruth  received  those  tokens 
of  favor  with  grateful  humility,  and  thanked  him  for  the  friendly 
notice  he  had  taken  of  her. 

When  she  returned  to  Naomi  in  the  evening,  and  showed  her 
the  great  quantity  of  corn  she  had  collected,  and  likewise  ac- 
quainted her  with  the  favorable  reception  she  had  met  with  from 
Boaz,  the  good  old  woman  began  to  entertain  views  for  the  future 
benefit  of  her  dutiful  and  beloved  daughter  in  law,  which  she 
had  never  before  contemplated. 

As  Boaz  was  so  near  a  relation  to  her  late  husband,  was  un- 
married, and  therefore,  agreeable  to  the  custom  of  the  Jews,  the 
most  proper  person  to  take  her  to  wife,  she  meditated  how  to 
bring  about  a  union  between  them.  The  difference  in  their 
circumstances,  she  flattered  herself,  would  not  prove  to  be  an 
irremoveable  bar ;  as,  to  a  man  of  Boaz's  generous  disposition, 
the  beauty  and  virtues  of  Ruth  might  be  esteemed  equivalent  to 
his  wealth.  She  accordingly  gave  her  daughter  in  law  such  pru- 
dential instructions  for  ingratiating  herself  still  further  into  the 
esteem  of  their  rich  relation,  that  in  a  short  time  he  married  her. 

Thus  was  an  obscure  Moabitish  damsel,  through  her  prudent 
and  virtuous  behavior,  raised  from  a  low  estate  to  such  an 
eminence,  that  mighty  kings,  and  even  the  Savior  of  mankind 
descended  from  her. 


Margaret  Roper.     In  favor  of  the  liberal  cultivation  of  the 
mind  of  woman,  it  may  be  observed,  that  at  no  period  of  English 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  443 

history  does  there  appear  to  hav^  been  gr«^ater  attention  paid  to 
the  cuhivation  of  the  female  mind,  than  during  the  age  of  Eliza- 
beth; and  at  no  time  has  there  existed  a  greater  number  of 
amiable  and  respectable  women.  Even  the  domestic  affections 
and  appropriate  virtues  of  the  sex,  modesty,  prudence,  and  con- 
jugal fidelity,  far  from  being  superseded  by  study  and  the  liberal 
sciences,  are,  on  the  contrary,  both  strengthened  and  embellished. 
The  habits  of  reflection  and  retirement  which  grow  out  of  the 
exercise  of  the  understanding,  are  equally  favorable  to  virtue 
and  the  cultivation  of  the  heart.  While  the  mind,  by  seeking 
resources  in  itself,  acquires  a  character  of  dignity  and  indepen- 
dence, a  sentiment  of  grandeur  and  generosity  is  communicated 
to  its  afiections  and  sympathies.  Dissipation  and  frivolous  pur- 
suits, by  enfeebling  the  understanding,  have  a  tendency  to 
harden  and  to  narrow  the  heart.  If  the  concentrated  passions 
of  stronger  minds,  and  these  examples  among  women  are  rare, 
have  sometimes  been  productive  of  fatal  effects,  an  impressive 
and  affecting  lesson,  as  in  the  sublimer  devastations  of  nature, 
may  be  derived  even  from  their  failures.  But  the  being,  restless 
in  the  pursuit  of  novelty,  irritable,  dependent,  unstable,  and  vain, 
who  lives  only  to  be  amused,  becomes  necessarily  selfish  and 
worthless,  the  contempt  and  burthen  of  society,  the  reproach  of 
one  sex  and  the  scorn  of  the  other.  Among  women  distin- 
guished for  their  worth  and  acquirements  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, the  three  daughters  of  Sir  Thomas  More  held  an  elevated 
rank. 

Margaret,  eldest  daughter  of  Sir  Thomas  More,  Lord  Chan- 
cellor of  England,  w^as  born  in  London,  in  the  year  1508.  She 
received,  in  the  fashion  of  the  times,  a  learned  education,  while 
men  of  the  first  literary  reputation  were  procured  by  her  father 
for  her  preceptors.  The  following  interesting  and  patriarchal 
description  of  the  family  of  the  chancellor,  is  given  by  Erasmus. 
"  More,"  says  he,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  "  has  built  near  London, 
on  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  (Chelsea,)  a  commodious  house, 
where  he  converses  affably  with  his  family,  consisting  of  his 
wife,  his  son  and  daughter  in  laAV,  his  three  daughters,  with 
their  husbands,  and  eleven  grand  children.     There  is  no  man 


444  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

living  so  fond  of  his  children,  or  who  possesses  a  more  excellent 
temper.  You  would  call  his  house  the  academy  of  Plato.  But 
I  should  do  it  an  injury  by  such  a  comparison ;  it  is  rather  a 
school  of  Christian  goodness,  in  which  piety,  virtue,  and  the 
liberal  sciences  are  studied  by  every  individual  of  the  family. 
No  wrangling  or  intemperate  language  is  ever  heard ;  no  one 
is  idle:  the  discipline  of  the  household  is  courtesy  and  benevo- 
lence. Every  one  performs  his  duty  with  cheerfulness  and 
alacrity."  What  a  charming  picture,  contrasted  with  modern 
seminaries  of  vice  and  dissipation. 

Margaret,  the  eldest  daughter  of  this  amiable  family,  was 
more  peculiarly  distinguished  for  her  talents  and  genius.  Doct. 
Clement  and  Mr.  William  Gonell,  who  ranked  with  the  most 
celebrated  linguists  of  the  age,  were  her  tutors  in  the  languages; 
from  Mr.  Drue,  Mr.  Nicholas,  and  Mr.  Richard  Heart,  she  ac- 
quired a  knowledge  of  the  arts  and  sciences.  Under  the  care 
of  these  gentlemen,  she  became  mistress  of  the  Greek  and  Latin, 
and  made  considerable  progress  in  astronomy,  philosophy,  phy- 
sics, logic,  rhetoric,  music,  and  arithmetic.  Sir  Thomas,  to 
whom  all  his  children  were  dear,  regarded  his  eldest  daughter, 
in  whose  attainments  and  powers  he  felt  a  laudable  pride,  with 
peculiar  tenderness.  She  is  said  to  have  written  a  pure  and  ele- 
gant Latin  style.  Her  father  delighted  in  holding  Avith  her  an 
epistolary  correspondence;  some  of  her  letters,  which  he  com- 
municated to  persons  of  the  most  distinguished  abilities  and 
learning,  received  high  and  just  praise. 

In  1528,  in  the  twentieth  year  of  her  age,  Margaret  gave  her 
hand  to  William  Roper,  Esq.,  a  man  of  talents  and  learning, 
amiable  and  accomplished,  whose  congenial  qualities  united  him 
to  the  family  of  the  chancellor,  by  the  most  cordial  and  indisso- 
luble ties.  The  young  couple  continued  to  live  at  Chelsea,  with 
the  family,  till  its  worthy  head,  after  being  taken  into  custody, 
was  confined  in  the  Tower.  Two  sons  and  three  daughters  were 
the  fruit  of  this  marriage,  whose  education  was  superintended 
by  their  mother  with  the  most  assiduous  care.  She  correspond- 
ed, and  Avas  personally  acquainted,  with  Erasmus,  the  restorer 
of  learning,  by  whom  she  was  styled  Britanise  decus,  and  in 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  445 

whose  estimation  she  held  a  high  place.  Sir  Thomas  having 
presented  to  Erasmus  a  valuable  picture,  by  Hans  HoUein,  in 
which  he  was  himself  represented,  surrounded  by  his  children, 
Erasmus  returned  his  acknowledgements  in  a  Latin  episile, 
which  he  addressed  to  Margaret.  In  this  letter  he  expresses  the 
pleasure  he  felt  in  receiving  a  representation  of  a  family  he  so 
truly  respected,  and  more  especially  that  of  a  lady,  whose  resem- 
blance could  not  be  beheld  without  being  reminded  of  her  ex- 
cellent and  admirable  qualities.  Margaret  replied  to  this  compli- 
ment in  an  elegant  Latin  epistle,  in  which,  after  expressing  her 
pleasure  in  the  satisfaction  the  picture  had  afibred  to  her  friend, 
she  acknowledges  him  as  an  instructor  to  whom  she  should  ever 
feel  herself  grateful. 

Having,  in  the  early  part  of  her  life,  applied  herself  to  the 
languages,  she  now  prosecuted,  with  no  less  assiduity,  the  study 
of  philosophy,  of  the  sciences,  of  physics,  and  of  theology.  The 
two  latter  branches  of  knowledge  were  more  particularly  recom- 
mended to  her  by  her  father.  Till  this  period,  her  life  glided 
on  serenely,  a  calm  unruffled  stream,  in  the  acquisition  of  sci- 
ence, and  in  the  bosom  of  her  family.  It  became  now^  agitated 
and  perturbed  by  the  tragical  fate  of  her  beloved  and  invaluable 
father. 

The  chancellor,  having  disapproved  the  conduct  of  Henry 
VIII.,  in  the  business  of  his  divorce  from  Catherine,  his  first 
wife,  thought  proper  to  resign  the  seals,  and  incurred,  by  this 
measure,  the  displeasure  of  a  capricious  tyrant.  Sir  Thomas, 
living  under  the  same  roof  and  in  the  midst  of  his  family,  the 
expenses  of  which  he  had  hitherto  defrayed  from  his  revenue, 
knew  not  how,  on  the  resignation  of  his  office,  to  support  the 
idea  of  a  separation  from  them.  Having  assembled  his  chil- 
dren together,  he  advised  with  them  respecting  the  measures 
which  it  would  be  necessary  to  pursue ;  and,  while  they  listened 
to  him  in  mournful  and  respectful  silence,  thus  addressed  them : 
"I  have  been  brought  up  at  Oxford,  at  an  inn  of  Chancery  in 
Lincoln's  Inn,  and  in  the  King's  Court,  from  the  lowest  degree 
to  the  highest ;  and  yet  have  I,  in  yearly  revenues,  at  this  pre- 
sent time,  little  left  me  above  one  hundred  pounds  a  year.     If, 

38 


446  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

therefore  we  continue  to  live  together,  we  must  all  become  con- 
tributors. But  my  counsel  is,  that  we  descend  not  to  the  lowest 
fare  first ;  we  Avill  not  yet  comply  with  Oxford  fare,  nor  that  of 
New  Inn :  but  we  will  begin  with  Lincoln's  Inn  diet,  where 
many  persons  of  distinction  live  very  agreeably.  And  should 
we  find  ourselves  incapacitated  from  living  thus  the  first  year 
we  will,  the  next  conform  ourselves  to  that  of  Oxford.  Should 
our  purses  not  even  allow  us  that,  we  may  afterwards,  with  bag 
and  wallet,  go  and  beg  together : — hoping  that,  for  pity,  some 
good  people  will  give  us  their  charity  ;  and  at  every  man  s  door 
we  will  sing  a  salve  regina,  whereby  we  shall  still  keep  com- 
pany, and  be  merry  together."  This  excellent  family  was  soon 
after  dispersed ;  but  Margaret  and  her  husband  still  continued 
to  reside  near  their  father. 

Sir  Thomas,  refusing  to  take  the  oath  of  supremacy,  the  pros- 
pect now  became  darker,  he  was  committed  to  the  custody  of 
the  abbot  of  Westminster,  whence,  continuing  inflexible,  he  was 
removed  to  the  Tower.  Overwhelmed  with  grief,  his  daughter 
was,  through  incessant  importunity,  at  length  allowed  to  visit 
him.  Admitted  to  his  presence,  she  left  no  argument,  expostula- 
tion, or  entreaty,  unessayed,  to  induce  him  to  relent  from  his 
purpose.  But  her  eloquence,  her  tenderness,  and  her  tears, 
proved  alike  ineffectual,  the  principles  and  constancy  of  this 
great  but  unfortunate  man,  were  not  to  be  shaken.  Margaret, 
less  tenacious,  or  less  bigoted,  had  herself  taken  the  oath,  with 
the  following  reservation. — "  As  far  as  would  stand  with  the  law 
of  God." 

The  family,  on  this  affecting  occasion,  seem  again,  from  a 
letter  addressed  by  Mrs.  Roper  to  her  father,  to  have  assembled 
at  Chelsea.  "  What  think  you  my  most  dear  father,"  says  she, 
"  doth  comfort  us,  in  this  your  absence  at  Chelsea  ?  Surely,  the 
remembrance  of  your  manner  of  life  passed  among  us,  your 
holy  conversation,  your  wholesome  counsels,  your  examples  of 
virtue,  of  which  there  is  hope,  that  they  do  not  only  persevere 
with  you  but  that  they  are  by  God's  grace,  much  more  increas- 
ed." During  the  imprisonment  of  Sir  Thomas,  a  frequent  in- 
tercourse of  letters  passed  between  him  and  his  beloved  daughter; 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  447 

and  when  deprived  of  pen  and  ink,  he  contrived  to  write  to  her 
with  a  coal. 

It  is  related  by  Dr.  Knight,  in  his  "  Life  of  Erasmus,"  that 
sentence  having  been  passed  on  the  chancellor,  his  daughter,  as 
he  was  returning  towards  the  Tower,  rushing  through  the  popu- 
lace and  guards,  threw  herself  upon  his  neck,  and  without  speak- 
ing, in  a  stupor  of  despair,  strained  him  closely  in  her  arms. 
Even  the  guards,  at  this  affecting  scene,  melted  into  compassion, 
while  the  fortitude  of  the  illustrious  prisoner  nearly  yielded. 
•'  My  dear  Margaret,"  said  he,  "submit  with  patience,  grieve  no 
longer  for  me,  it  is  the  will  of  God,  and  must  be  borne."  Ten- 
derly embracing  her,  he  withdrew  himself  from  her  arms.  He 
had  not  proceeded  many  paces,  when  she  again  rushed  toward 
him ;  again,  in  a  paroxysm  of  sorrow,  more  eloquent  than  words, 
threw  herself  on  his  bosom.  Tears  flowed  down  the  venerable 
cheeks  of  Sir  Thomas,  while  he  gazed  on  her  with  tender  calm- 
ness ;  yet  his  heroic  purpose  continued  unmoved.  Having  en- 
treated her  prayers  for  him,  he  bade  her  affectionately  farewell, 
while  every  spectator  dissolved  in  tender  sympathy. 

The  care  of  Margaret  extended  to  the  lifeless  remains  of  her 
beloved  parent ;  by  her  interest  and  exertions,  his  body  was,  after 
his  execution,  interred  in  the  chapel  of  St.  Peter's,  ad  vincula, 
within  the  precincts  of  the  Tower  ;  and,  was  afterwards  removed 
to  the  chancel  of  the  church  at  Chelsea.  His  head,  having  re- 
mained fourteen  days  exposed  on  London  bridge,  in  conformity 
to  his  sentence,  was  about  to  be  cast  into  the  Thames,  when  it 
was  purchased  by  his  daughter.  Being,  on  this  occasion,  inhu- 
manly summoned  before  the  council;  she  firmly  avowed  and 
justified  her  conduct.  This  boldness  did  not  escape  the  ven- 
geance of  the  king ;  she  was  committed  to  prison,  whence,  after 
a  short  restraint,  and  vain  attempts  to  subdue  her  courage  by 
menaces,  she  was  liberated,  and  restored  to  her  husband  and 
family. 

The  remainder  of  her  life  was  passed  in  domestic  retirement, 
in  the  besom  of  her  family,  and  in  the  education  of  her  children. 
She  is  described  by  Mr.  More,  in  his  life  of  Sir  Thomas,  as  a 
woman  of  singular  powers  and  endowments,  and  as  chosen  by 


448  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

her  father,  for  her  sagacity  and  prudence,  as  his  friend  and  con- 
fidant. She  composed  many  Latin  epistles,  poems,  and  orations, 
which  were  dispersed  among  the  learned  of  her  acquaintance 
Two  declamations  were  likewise  written  by  her,  and  translated 
both  by  herself  and  her  father,  with  equal  spirit  and  eloquence, 
into  Latin.  She  also  composed  a  treatise,  "  Of  the  four  last 
things,"  with  so  much  justice  of  thought,  and  strong  reasoning, 
as  obliged  Sir  Thomas  to  confess  its  superiority  to  a  discourse 
in  which  he  was  himself  employed  on  the  same  subject,  and 
which,  it  is  supposed,  on  that  account,  was  never  concluded. 
The  ecclesiastical  history  of  Eusebius,  was  translated  by  this 
lady  from  the  Greek  into  Latin ;  its  publication  was  superceded 
by  that  of  bishop  Christopherson,  a  celebrated  Grecian  of  that 
period.  This  labor  of  learning  was  afterwards  translated  from 
the  Latin  into  English,  by  Mary,  the  daughter  of  Margaret  Ro- 
per, who  inherited  the  talents  of  her  mother. 

Mrs.  Roper,  whose  learning  and  genius  procured  her  the 
respect  and  admiration  of  the  most  distinguished  characters  of 
her  country,  and  of  the  age  in  which  she  lived,  survived  her 
father  only  nine  years,  she  had  been  a  wife  sixteen  years,  and 
died  in  1554,  in  her  thirty-sixth  year.  In  compliance  with  her 
desire,  the  head  of  her  father  was  interred  with  her,  in  her  arms, 
as  related  by  some ;  or,  according  to  others,  deposited  in  a  leaden 
box,  and  placed  upon  her  coffin. 


Sarah  Smith,  was  born  at  Hanover,  in  the  state  of  New 
Hampshire,  in  the  year  1789.  She  was  the  daughter  of  John 
Smith,  D.D.,  professor  of  the  learned  languages  at  Dartmouth 
college.  He  was  a  profound  scholar  in  his  professorship,  and 
so  deeply  engaged  in  his  duties,  that  his  daughter  never  re- 
ceived any  assistance  in  her  studies  from  him.  Her  mother 
was  the  daughter  of  Colonel  David  Mason,  an  excellent  soldier, 
and  an  enlightened  philosopher,  who  was  a  coadjutor  of  Dr. 
Franklin,  in  the  science  of  electricity.  Mrs.  Smith  is  a  woman 
of  superior  mind,  and  of  deep  reflection,  as  well  as  of  exemplary 
life  and  conversation.     She  yet  lives,  the  ornament  of  her  age. 

At  a  very  early  age,  Sarah  was  at  the  head  of  her  school, 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  449 

and  seemed  to  take  her  place  as  a  matter  of  right,  for  her  supe- 
riority was  attended  with  so  much  meekness  of  disposition,  that 
no  one  of  her  school  mates  felt  envious  of  her  elevation.  She 
made  no  apparent  effort  to  be  learned,  but  was  well  acquainted 
with  the  Latin  language,  although  she  had  not  gone  far  in 
the  Latin  classics.  At  the  early  age  of  fourteen,  she  wrote  a 
mock  heroic  poem,  on  some  village  incidents,  which  embraced 
lively  descriptions  of  many  personages  Avell  >  known  to  each 
other.  It  was  full  of  genius  and  pleasantry,  and  discovered  a 
deep  knowledge  of  character  for  one  so  young.  She  was  early 
a  professor  of  religion,  but  never  lost  her  love  of  society  for  a 
moment  in  her  life.  Her  religion  concentrated  the  rays  of  hap- 
piness, rather  than  the  gloom  of  despondency  ;  her  prayers  for 
mankind  were  full  of  hope  for  those  in  darkness,  for  she  be- 
lieved the  bright  effulgence  of  religion  would,  in  time,  attract 
the  attention  of  those  who  might  appear  the  most  thoughtless. 
She  w^as  well  read  in  divinity,  and  could  give  a  sound  reason 
for  her  faith.  She  preferred  the  strong  minds  among  the  great 
lights  of  the  church,  to  those  who  dwell  too  long  upon  emotion. 
She  read  Sherlock  oftener  than  Whitfield,  or  the  author  of  the 
"  Bank  of  Faith." 

She  wrote  poetry  with  great  ease,  of  a  most  sentimental  char- 
acter, abounding  in  beautiful  images,  and  happy  illustrations. 
Her  epistolary  correspondence  was  of  an  affectionate,  cheerful, 
and  pious  cast;  and  many  solicited  the  honor  of  exchanging 
letters  with  her.  Some  of  her  letters  that  have  fallen  within  the 
notice  of  the  writer,  would  do  credit  to  Mrs.  Hemans,  or  any 
other  distinguished  woman  of  the  age.  Her  conversation  was 
delightful,  no  matter  what  the  subject,  however  common  place 
it  might  be,  she  threw  into  it  without  any  effort,  a  charm  that 
showed  at  once  her  talents  and  her  disposition.  In  early  life  it 
w^as  seen  that  the  canker  worm  had  been  concealed  in  the  blos- 
som, and  that  her  sojourn  with  the  world  was  not  to  be  long. 
Of  this  she  was  fully  aware,  but  it  did  not  for  a  moment  disturb 
the  serenity  of  her  soul ;  all  was  settled,  all  was  calm  on  this 
subject ;  she  would  often  allude  to  her  state  of  health,  but  with- 
out a  sigh,  nor  would  even  a  shade  of  melancholy  cross  the 

33* 


450  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

features  of  her  face,  in  contemplating  her  early  exit  from  this 
world. 

Although  she  felt  no  anxiety  for  the  continuance  of  her  life, 
she  deemed  it  a  duty  she  owed  herself  and  friends  to  take  good 
care  of  herself,  and  was  careful  to  guard  herself  from  a  damp 
evening  air.    She  read,  wrote,  and  conversed,  to  the  extent  of  her 
strength,  but  never  suffered  her  passion  for  gaining  knowledge 
to  overcome  her  sense  of  duty.     She  entered  the  circle  of  her 
friends  with  a  wasted  frame  that  seemed  a  gossamer,  with  a  smile 
on  her  countenance,  while  her  eyes  sparkled  with  more  than 
mortal  fire,  and  was  at  once  the  centre  of  attraction.     There  was 
no  study,  no  affectation,  no  parade  of  knowledge,  in  her  conver- 
sation; all  was  tasteful,  easy,  elegant,  enchanting.     Her  disposi- 
tion was  most  admirable.    She  might  be  grieved,  but  no  one  ever 
saw  her  offended.     No  envy,  nor  malice,  ever  entered  her  heart. 
It  was  the  abode  of  charity  and  love  alone.     The  writer  of  this 
slight  memoir,  saw  Miss  Smith  the  month  preceding  her  disso- 
lution ;  he  had  seen  her  when  a  child,  and  witnessed  the  devel- 
opement  of  her  high  intellectual  powers  in  the  course  of  her 
education.     He  now  saw  her  emaciated  form,  heard  her  feeble 
voice,  and  listened  to  her  religious  admonitions.     She  had  done 
with  the  world,  she  had  made  her  peace  v/ith  heaven,  and  was 
watching,  with  saint-like  resignation,  for  her  hour  of  departure. 
It  was  a  lovely  day  in  June,  1812,  when  the  soft  light  of  evening 
was  taking  the  place  of  a  brilliant  sun,  that  I  held  the  last  con- 
versation with  this  pure  spirit,  that  was  hovering  on  the  confines 
of  another  world.     She  directed  the  conversation,  all  naturally, 
to  a  future  existence.     She  gave  her  reasons  for  a  full  belief  in 
it  without  effort,  but  they  were  full  of  philosophy  and  religion. 
She  spoke  of  our  fallen  nature,  of  divine  grace,  and  of  the  pro- 
mises of  the  gospel ;  all  connected  with  the  immortal  longings' 
incorporated    with   our   existence,   to   live   beyond   the   grave. 
There  was  no  voice  of  terror  in  it,  no  thrilling  suggestions  of 
punishment,  but  it  was  the  soft,  soul-inspiring  exhortation  of  a 
departing  spirit  to  a  lover  of  the  world.     Such  a  lesson,  such  a 
gentle  farewell,  would  cure  the  infidel  of  his  doubt,  and  melt  the 
heart  of  stone  to  water.     She  arose  to  no  romantic  rhapsody,  such 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  451 

as  I  had  witnessed  in  the  dying  hours  of  such  as  had  been  sud- 
denly converted.  She  asked  for  no  horses  or  chariots  of  fire, 
to  carry  her  up  to  heaven,  but  wished  to  rest  her  head  on  her 
Savior  s  bosom,  when  he  appeared  to  receive  her  spirit,  as  the 
angel  of  death  was  discharging  his  mission.  In  the  midst  of 
this  heavenly  strain,  she  came  back  to  the  scenes  of  time  and 
sense,  and  breathed  a  sincere  wish  that  the  listener  might  see 
long  and  happy  days,  before  he  should  be  summoned  to  follow 
her.  I  know  not  how  long  I  should  have  remained  under  the 
spell,  if  holy  influences  can  be  called  a  spell,  if  others  had  not 
come  to  catch  her  prayer  and  share  her  smiles.  Her  parting 
look,  I  never  shall  forget;  in  that  hour  all  worldly  ambition,  all 
panting  after  wealth,  fame,  or  human  knowledge,  became  as  the 
drop  in  the  bucket,  as  the  dust  in  the  ballance,  without  measure, 
and  without  regard;  and  although  many  of  the  dark  waves  of 
time  have  since  rolled  over  me,  and  swept  away  all  "  trivial  fond 
records,"  yet  the  impressions,  then  made,  often  rise  to  my  recol- 
lection, fresh  as  ever. 

Most  of  the  poetry  of  Miss  Smith  is  at  this  time,  beyond  my 
reach  ;  the  little  I  am  able  to  offer  the  reader,  will  prove  the 
delicacy  of  her  taste,  and  the  cast  of  her  mind ;  but  to  have  a 
just  idea  of  her  character,  one  must  have  been  acquainted  with 
her,  as  she  passed  on,  all  lovely  and  glorious,  to  another  world. 
I  have  only  made  a  few  extracts,  from  some  memoranda 
from  her  pen,  as  she  w^as  on  her  rapid  journey  to  the  grave. 
There  is  deep  reflection,  and  holy  feeling  in  her  language. 

THE  WHITE  CLOVER. 

There  is  a  little  perfumed  flower 
That  well  might  grace  the  loveliest  bower, 
Yet  poet  never  deigned  to  sing 
Of  such  an  humble  rustic  thing. 
Nor  is  it  strange,  for  it  can  show 
Scarcely  a  tint  of  Iris'  bow. 
Nature,  perchnnce,  in  careless  hour, 
With  pencil  dry  might  paint  the  flower 
Yet  instant  blushed  her  fault  to  see, 
So  gave  it  double  fragrancy, 
Rich  recompense  for  aught  denied. 
Who  would  not  homely  garb  abide, 


452  FEMALE   BIOGRAPHY, 

If  gentlest  soul  were  breathing  there, 
Blessings  throughout  its  little  sphere 7 
Sweet  flower!  the  lesson  thou  has  taught 
Shall  check  each  proud  ambitious  thought ; 
Teach  me  internal  worth  to  prize, 
Though  clad  in  lowhest,  rudest  guise. 

This  was  a  playful  Anacreontic  on  a  cup  of  cold  water.  Has 
not  the  chrystal  spring  as  much  inspiration  now  as  when  it 
welled  for  the  Grecian  muse? 


Haste  and  bring  the  sparkling  prize, 
This  the  cup  I  love  to  sip, 
Blithe  I  raise  it  to  my  lip  ; 
Lurks  no  poison  here  to  pain, 
Chill  the  heart  and  fire  the  brain. 
Haste  thee,  boy,  a  wreath  entwine. 
Fresh  from  Virtue's  generous  vine. 
Graceful  buds  of  many  a  hue, 
Meek  Innocence!  thy  emblem  true. 
This  the  cup  I  love  to  sip, 
Blithe  to  raise  it  to  my  lip. 


Ah  me!  and  shall  the  lettered pag3 
No  more  my  studious  thoughts  engage. 
While  thirsting,  but  forbid  to  share 
The  sweets  of  knowledge  treasured  there. 
And  must  a  weak  uncultured  mind 
Within  this  feeble  frame  be  shrined  7 
Must  youth  forego  her  vernal  day, 
Flit  idle,  unimproved  away. 
While  vainly  asks  my  heart  to  be 
Thine  active  fiend,  Humanity? 
Forgive,  Religion  !  shall  a  worm  repine, 
And  dare  to  murmur  at  the  will  divine? 
Lord  !  at  thy  feet  submissive  let  me  fall, 
O  give  thyself,  and  take  my  earthly  all. 

The  following  lines  were  written  shortly  before  her  death, 
with  a  pencil,  as  she  was  gazing  on  some  passing  clouds,  seen 
from  her  dying  couch. 

On  some  such  light  and  fleecy  cloud, 

Methinks  my  soul  may  fly, 
When  once  released  this  cumbrous  load> 

Of  dull  mortality. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  453 


Reason,  I  love  to  close  thine  eye, 

When  Autumn  winds  are  rising  high, 

And  fancy  Nature  cries  aloud, 

Waving  her  dark  funereal  shroud, 

Sighing  to  veil  her  pallid  breast, 

Beneath  her  white  and  dazzling  vest. 

No  wreath  adorns  her  naked  head, 

To  sullen  skies  her  arms  are  spread, 

She  sees  the  cloudy  wing  on  high, 

'Tis  dark  November  rushing  by; 

He  stays  not  in  his  rude  career, 

But  mocks  her  hopes  with  brow  severe. 

Fair  suppliant,  for  I  call  the  fair. 

Though  gem  nor  blossom  thou  doest  wear. 

Stay  yet  a  httle,  and  the  boon. 

So  long  protracted,  is  thine  own. 

Stay  yet  a  little,  solemn  thought, 

From  fancy's  lip,  the  sound  has  caught. 

There  is  a  drapery  of  death. 

No  mockery  of  fancy's  breath, 

Hid  in  the  future's  doubtful  gloom, 

It  waits  us,  tenants  of  the  tomb. 

Hail  spotless  robe !  thy  peaceful  fold 

Lies  quiet  on  the  bosom  cold  ; 

When  strife  within  is  sweetly  o'er. 

And  the  dread  warfare  pains  no  more. 


Mary  Saltonstall,  was  the  daughter  of  William  Whit- 
titigham,  of  Boston,  who  descended  from  an  illustrious  line  of 
puritans.  His  daughter  Mary  was  married  to  a  merchant,  by 
the  name  of  Clarke,  when  only  eighteen  years  of  age,  in  1687. 
With  this  worthy  man  she  lived  twenty-seven  years,  when  he 
died,  leaving  her  a  good  estate,  which,  added  to  her  patrimony, 
made  her  very  wealthy.  In  two  years  after  the  death  of  Mr. 
Clarke,  she  married  Gurdon  Saltonstall,  then  governor  of  the 
state  of  Connecticut.  He  died  in  1724,  and  she  returned  to 
Boston,  and  died  in  1730.  She  was  a  woman  of  extraordinary 
powers  of  mind,  with  a  good  education,  and  of  most  exemplary 
piety.  She  was  at  the  head  of  society  in  Connecticut,  as  well 
as  in  Boston.  She  was  a  patron  of  colleges  and  churches.  Be- 
fore the  death  of  Governor  Saltonstall,  she  gave  a  hundred 
pounds  to  Harvard  college,  and  the  same  sum  to  Yale,  and  by 


454  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

will,  a  thousand  pounds  to  Harvard,  to  assist  two  young  men  of 
bright  parts  and  sober  lives  intended  for  the  ministry.  On  the 
poor,  large  sums  had  been  bestowed  by  her  in  her  life  time, 
and  she  remembered  them  also  in  her  will.  She  was  remarka- 
bly eloquent  in  conversation,  and  was  at  home  in  all  the  topics 
on  the  carpet  at  that  day.  She  had  kept  up  a  constant  inter- 
course with  her  friends  and  connections  in  England,  and  was, 
of  course,  furnished  with  the  best  productions  of  the  literary 
age  of  queen  Anne.  Milton,  Young,  and  Pope  made  up  more 
of  the  education  of  literary  women  than  they  now  do,  since  the 
new  generation  of  poets  have  come  up  to  dazzle  and  bewilder. 

The  will  of  Mrs.  Saltonstall  was  written  by  her  own  hand, 
and  is  a  curiosity  for  its  precision  and  elegant  chirography. 
That  only  a  few  scanty  materials  can  be  found  of  such  a  woman, 
when  many  of  but  little  note  among  men,  have  been  mentioned, 
can  only  be  accounted  for,  by  looking  at  the  fashion  of  the 
times,  which  was  to  keep  all  females  from  notoriety.  Females 
had  perhaps  as  much  influence  in  society  then  as  now,  but  they 
certainly  were  not  so  fortunate  as  to  find  as  many  gallant  histo- 
rians as  at  the  present  day.  The  learned  Prince  wrote  her 
character ;  she  was  his  parishioner,  and  he  esteemed  her  as  a 
woman  of  superior  virtues  and  attainments. 


Sarah  Louisa  P.  Smith.  When  highly  gifted  minds  are 
taken  from  the  world,  the  public  sustain  a  loss ;  and  it  is  but 
justice  to  ourselves  to  mourn  that  bereavement,  and  to  recount 
their  endowments  in  the  sincere  language  of  affection  and  truth. 
The  papers  have  announced  the  premature  death  of  Mrs.  Sarah 
Louisa  P.  Smith,  formerly  Miss  Hickman.  Shew^as  born  June 
thirtieth,  1811,  and  died  February  twelfth,  1832,  in  the  twenty- 
first  year  of  her  age.  Fler  maternal  ancestors  resided  many 
years  at  Newton,  near  Boston,  but  Louisa  was  born  at  Detroit, 
while  her  grandfather.  Major-general  William  Hull,  was  gover- 
nor of  that  territory.  She  went  to  Massachusetts  in  her  infancy 
with  her  good  mother,  and  there  received  her  education,  under 
her  watchful  eye.  She  early  attracted  the  attention  of  those 
who  had  the  care  of  her  as  instructors ;  they  loaded  the  extra- 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  455 

ordinary  child  with  medals  and  tokens  of  approbation,  as  proofs 
of  her  proficiency.  The  ease  with  which  she  acquired  infor- 
mation was  not  more  remarkable  than  the  modesty  which  ac- 
companied her  superiority.  She  was  so  affectionate  towards  all 
her  schoolmates,  that  they  readily  gave  up  their  pretensions  to 
share  in  the  rewards  bestowed  upon  her  talents  and  acquire- 
ments. She  began,  from  the  promptings  of  her  imagination,  to 
write  almost  in  infancy ;  and  these  productions  were  redolent 
with  Castalian  dews.  She  had  a  quick  perception,  and  a  most 
wonderful  memory,  and  she  acquired  knowledge  without  any 
apparent  effort ;  sti]l  her  mind  was  in  constant  activity.  In  look- 
ing over  some  of  her  early  productions,  we  are  surprised  at  their 
depth  of  thought,  as  well  as  the  felicitous  manner  in  which  she 
clothes  her  ideas.  Her  mind  seems  to  reflect  the  images  of  na- 
ture, as  the  pure  and  transparent  waters  of  a  lovely  lake.  She 
gathered,  selected,  and  combined  these  images,  and  gave  them 
voice  and  harmony,  as  the  fabled  sea-nymphs  blended  poesy 
and  song  in  their  coral  cells.  Her  first  productions  were  shown 
to  her  instructors  and  family  friends,  without  the  ambition  of 
literary  distinction.  To  gratify  them,  she  now  and  then  ventured 
to  send  some  of  the  pieces  she  wrote  to  the  periodicals  of  the 
day,  under  various  signatures  ;  the  publishers  not  conjecturing 
from  whom  they  came.  These  were  greatly  admired,  and  often 
reprinted.  Good  judges  spoke  of  these  productions  as  beauti- 
ful specimens  of  descriptive  and  sentimental  poetry;  and  al- 
though it  was  impossible  not  to  see  the  glow  of  youthful  fancy 
about  them,  yet  no  one  imagined  that  they  came  from  a  school- 
girl, who  had  just  entered  her  teens,  -While  her  name  was  a 
secret  to  all  but  a  few,  she  heard  her  effusions  compared 
with  those  of  Henry  Kirke  White,  and  of  Mrs.  Hemans,  and 
others  of  that  school ;  and  when  her  friends  would  no  lon- 
ger suffer  the  concealment  of  her  name,  and  it  was  announ- 
ced that  I.  L.  C,  S.  L.,  Ella,  &c.,  &c.,  was  a  young  lady  of 
fifteen  only,  the  public  were  not  a  little  incredulous  as  to  the 
fact ;  but  w^ere,  after  a  while,  perfectly  convinced,  for  she  was 
applied  to  by  several  of  the  publishers  of  the  annuals,  &c., 
for  pieces    for    their  volumes,  which    were    furnished  with  a 


456  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

promptitude  no  less  surprising  than  their  excellence.  Miss 
Hickman  being  now  known,  she  became  an  object  of  atten- 
tion. If  she  would  not  have  been  called  beautiful  by  the 
crowd,  there  was  something  so  deeply  interesting  in  her 
countenance,  something  so  prepossessing  in  her  whole  appear- 
ance, that  the  tasteful  would  at  first  sight  have  pronounced  her 
no  ordinary  woman.  Her  countenance  v^'as  full  of  the  light  of 
mind,  and  her  head  was  of  that  peculiar  form  that  would  have 
thrown  the  phrenologist  into  ecstasy.  Her  complexion  was  fine, 
soft,  and  delicate,  and  her  expression  sweet  and  mutable.  In 
the  autumn  of  1828,  Miss  Hickman  was  married  to  Mr.  S.  J. 
Smith,  then  the  editor  of  a  literary  periodical  in  Providence. 
The  next  season  they  moved  to  Cincinnati,  in  Ohio.  This  union 
was  short,  but  one  of  great  afl^ection.  Before  they  left  Provi- 
dence, her  husband  published  a  volume  of  her  poems,  collect- 
ing some  of  those  previously  given  to  the  public  in  the  columns 
of  literary  papers,  and  others  were  written  as  the  book  was 
passing  through  the  press.  It  is  at  all  times  a  hazardous  thing 
for  a  poet  of  maturity,  and  in  full  strength,  to  gather  up  his  fugi- 
tive productions,  and  present  them  in  a  volume.  R.  T.  Paine, 
Mrs.  Hemans,  and  even  Moore,  for  a  while  lost  fame  by  such  a 
course.  The  mind  is  so  constituted  that  it  will  not  relish  a  pro- 
fusion of  sweet  morsels  at  once  so  readily  as  if  it  met  them  acci- 
dentally; but  Mrs.  Smith  did  not  share  the  common  fate  of 
authors  in  this  respect,  for  many  of  the  papers,  from  Georgia  to 
Maine,  noticed  her  volume ;  if  not  all  with  equal  discrimination, 
they  all  abounded  in  a  high  measure  of  praise.  While  she 
resided  in  the  west,  she  was  ranked  among  the  sweetest  min- 
strels of  that  region  ;  a  land  of  charming  scenery,  and  of  minds 
of  fresh  and  vigorous  thought.  She  found  the  muses  on  the 
borders  of  the  beautiful  Ohio  as  fond  to  inspire  their  votary  as 
they  were  on  the  banks  of  the  Charles,  where  she  first  courted 
their  smiles.  To  form  a  just  estimate  of  her  merit,  we  must 
take  into  view  her  age,  and  the  circumstances  under  which  she 
wrote.  She  indulged  in  no  reveries  of  fame  or  profit,  but  took 
up  her  pen  to  pass  a  leisure  hour,  and  to  pour  out  her  heart 
upon  some  theme  that  casually  came  across  her  imagination. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  457 

She  had  no  jealousy  of  rival  poets,  but  read  their  works  with 
the  kindest  feelings,  and  was  at  all  times  alive  to  their  merits. 
With  the  elements  of  mind,  taste,  and  feeling,  such  as  hers,  reli- 
gion— pure,  warm,  uneffected  religion — was  almost  certainly  to 
be  found  in  the  very  fitness  of  things.  Hers  was  the  religion 
of  belief  with  affection ;  the  exercise  of  benevolence  in  word 
and  deed,  attended  by  the  brightest  visions  of  hope  and  immor- 
tality. No  one  can  express  their  views  of  futurity  better  than 
herself: 

I  would  not  have  thee  deem  my  heart 

Unmindful  of  those  higher  joys, 
Regardless  of  that  better  part 

Which  earthly  passion  ne'er  alloys; 
I  would  not  have  thee  think  I  live 

Within  heaven's  pure  and  blessed  light, 
Nor  feeling  nor  affection  give 

To  Him  who  makes  my  pathway  bright. 
I  could  not  chain  to  mystic  creeds 

A  spirit  fetterless  and  free, 
The  beauteous  path  to  heaven  that  leads. 

Is  dimm'd  by  earthly  bigotry ; 
And  yet  for  all  that  earth  can  give, 

And  all  it  e'er  can  take  away, 
I  would  not  have  that  spirit  rove 

One  moment  from  its  heaven- ward  way; 
I  would  not  that  my  heart  were  cold 

And  void  of  gratitude  to  Him 
Who  makes  those  blessings  to  unfold, 

Which  by  our  waywardness  grow  dim ; 
I  would  not  lose  the  cherish'd  trust, 

Of  things  within  the  world  to  come, 
The  thoughts  that  when  their  joys  are  dust. 

The  weary  have  a  peaceful  home. 
For  I  have  left  the  dearly  loved. 

The  home,  the  hopes  of  other  years. 
And  early  in  its  pathway  proved 

Life's  rainbow  hues  were  formed  of  tears. 
I  shall  not  meet  them  here  again, 

Those  loved  and  lost  and  cherish'd  ones, 
Bright  links  in  young  afTection's  chain, 

In  memory's  sky  unsetting  suns. 
But  perfect  in  the  world  above, 

Through  suffering  and  trial  here. 
Shall  glow  the  undiminished  love 

Which  clouds  and  distance  fail'd  to  sear. 
89 


A^S  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

But  I  have  lingered  all  too  long, 
Thy  kind  remembrance  to  engage, 

And  woven  but  a  mournful  song, 
Wherewith  to  dim  thy  page  ! 


The  mind  of  Mrs.  Smith  was  not  like  that  of  one  of 
those  precocious  beings,  who  early  reach  the  height  of  thei? 
powers,  and  after  having  astonished  their  friends,  by  the  prema 
ture  blossoms  of  spring,  yield  no  summer  fruit  or  autumnal  har 
vest.  What  she  might  have  done,  if  she  had  lived,  can  easily 
be  inferred  from  what  she  was  doing  when  taken  from  us ;  she 
was  then  reviewing  her  early  partialities  in  letters,  criticising 
the  justice  of  her  own  opinions,  and  reversing  her  judgments 
when  convinced  that  they  were  wrong.  These  are  the  labors 
of  a  clear  and  vigorous  mind  and  an  honest  disposition,  and 
when  taken  up  with  ardor,  and  persevered  in,  seldom  fail  to  end 
in  greatness- 

One  of  her  last  productions  was  a  dirge,  written  at  the  re- 
quest of  a  friend,  who  was  engaged  in  a  work  upon  some  por- 
tion of  the  annals  of  Poland,  and  when  he  came  to  that  affecting 
passage  of  history  Avhere  Kosciusko  fell,  and  was  supposed  by 
all  Warsaw  to  have  been  dead,  he  wished  to  introduce  a  hymn, 
as  sung  on  that  night  of  grief  by  the  holy  sisters  of  the  con- 
vent. The  following  lines  were  furnished  a  few  days  after  the 
request  was  made ;  they  are  full  of  eloquent  beauties : 

DIRGE. 

Through  Warsaw  there  is  weeping, 

And  a  voice  of  sorrow  now. 
For  the  hero  who  is  sleeping 
With  death  upon  his  brow ; 
The  trumpet-tone  will  waken 
No  more  his  martial  tread, 
Nor  the  battle-ground  be  shaken 
When  his  banner  is  outspread ! 
Now  let  our  hymn 

Float  through  the  aisle. 
Faintly  and  dim, 

Where  moon-beams  smile; 
Sisters,  let  our  solemn  strain, 
Breathe  a  blessing  o'er  the  slain ! 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  459 

There's  a  voice  of  grief  in  "Warsaw, 

The  mourning  of  the  brave, 
O'er  the  chieftain  who  is  gather'd 

Unto  his  honor'd  grave; 
Who  now  will  face  the  foeman  1 
Who  break  the  tyrant's  chain 7 
Their  bravest  one  lies  fallen, 
And  sleeping  with  the  slain. 
Now  let  our  hymn 

Float  through  the  aisle, 
Faintly  and  dim, 

Where  moon-beams  smile; 
Sisters,  let  our  dirge  be  said 
Slowly  o'er  the  sainted  dead! 

There's  a  voice  of  woman's  weeping, 

In  Warsaw  heard  to-night, 
And  eyes  close  not  in  sleeping, 

That  late  with  joy  were  bright ; 
No  festal  torch  is  lighted. 

No  notes  of  music  swell, 
Their  country's  hope  was  blighted 
When  that  son  of  freedom  fell ! 
Now  let  our  hymn 

Float  through  the  aisle. 
Faintly  and  dim. 
Where  moon-beams  sraile; 
Sisters,  let  our  hymn  arise 
Sadly  to  the  midnight  skies ! 

And  a  voice  of  love  undying, 

From  the  tomb  of  other  years, 
Like  the  west  wind's  summer  sighing 

It  blends  with  manhood's  tears ; 
It  whispers  not  of  glory, 

Nor  fame's  unfading  youth. 
But  lingers  o'er  a  story 
Of  young  affection's  truth. 
Now  let  our  hymn 

Float  through  the  aisle, 
Faintly  and  dim 
Where  moon-beams  smile ; 
Sisters,  let  our  solemn  strain 
Breathe  a  blessing  o'er  the  slain ! 

The  prose  writings  of  Mrs.  Smith  were  as  direct  evidence  of 
intellectual  superiority  as  the  best  of  her  poetical  productions. 
They  are  marked  with  that  ease,  grace,  and  enchanting  sweet- 


460  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

ness  that  may  be  found  in  her  happiest  efforts  m  verse.  If  the 
term  may  be  allowed — and  what  shall  be  condemned  that  fairly 
illustrates  a  truth — there  is  a  sort  of  eider-down  of  the  soul  un- 
der all  the  nestlings  of  her  creation,  that  gives  them  the  softest 
repose  that  can  be  imagined.  She  attempted  no  eagle-flights — 
these  were  to  be  the  efforts  of  riper  years — all  her  thoughts 
were  in  the  moon-light  groves  of  the  nightingale,  or  in  the 
sunny  vales,  among  the  birds  of  paradise,  Avhose  delicate  and 
fairy  feathers,  upturned  to  the  sun,  drink,  reflect,  and  untwist 
all  the  glorious  rays  of  light  that  blaze  in  the  Indian  isles. 
We  would  not,  we  could  not  yield  the  dictates  of  our  judg- 
ment to  the  overflowings  of  the  sensitive  eulogist,  yet  we  can- 
not take  our  last  look  of  this  delightful  vision  that  has  so 
lately  passed  away,  without  thinking  that  she  "  was  free  among 
the  dead,"  before  she  had  fulfilled  the  ordinary  years  of  her  mi- 
nority. If  conjugal  affection,  maternal  care,  or  the  prayers  of  a 
host  of  devoted  friends  could  have  saved  her,  she  would  still  have 
been  living.  She  died  at  the  same  age  of  the  youthful  bard,  to 
praise  whom,  in  never-dying  verse,  Byron  stopped  from  his  strange 
wanderings,  and  to  commemorate  whom,  Southey  wrote  a  volume. 


Dorothy  Scott,  the  daughter  of  Edmund  Quincy,  the 
second  of  that  name  distinguished  in  the  annals  of  Massachu- 
setts, was  born  about  the  year  1750,  and  was  married  in  1774, 
to  John  Hancock,  afterwards  president  of  congress,  whose 
name  is  affixed  to  the  declaration  of  independence.  She  was 
with  him  at  Concord,  when  the  British  made  their  attack  at 
Lexington  and  Concord,  April  19th,  and  fled  Avith  him  to  an 
adjacent  toAvn,  Woburn.  Hancock  was  eager  to  get  into  the 
fight,  but  was  restrained  by  the  advice  of  Samuel  Adams,  who 
knew  the  value  of  such  a  man  as  Hancock  in  the  contest  then 
commenced,  and  which  he  saw  would  not  suddenly  be  closed. 

Mrs.  Hancock  had  moved  in  the  first  circles  of  taste  and 
fashion,  and  gratified  her  husband's  ambition  in  presiding  with 
so  much  elegance  at  his  table,  and  by  leading  the  conversation, 
in  those  times  of  high  political  feeling  to  topics  in  which  all 
would  agree.     Hancock  was  sorely  afflicted  with  the  gout,  and, 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  461 

naturally  irritable,  it  required,  at  times,  all  lier  blandishments  to 
keep  him  from  outraging  all  around  him ;  but  she  never  tired 
in  her  exertions,  but  acted  the  dutiful,  kind  wife  at  all  times, 
without  retort  or  peevishness.  They  had  no  children,  those 
careful  comforts  of  wedded  life,  who,  if  they  add  to  our  labors 
in  providing  for  them,  fill  up  many  a  void,  felt  in  the  existence 
of  the  wisest  who  have  no  offspring.  From  her  husband's  char- 
acter and  situation  in  life,  she  was  in  a  perpetual  round  of  com- 
pany, until  the  death  of  Governor  Hancock,  which  happened  in 
1793.  He  supposed  that  he  had  left  his  widow  a  splendid  for- 
tune, but  it  turned  out,  in  the  way  it  was  managed,  only  a  fair 
competency.  Several  years  after  the  decease  of  Mr.  Hancock, 
she  intermarried  with  Captain  Scott,  with  whom  she  enjoyed  as 
much  happiness  as  with  her  former  husband,  if  she  enjoyed  less 
splendor.  She  outlived  her  second  husband  many  years,  and 
retained  her  mental  faculties  in  great  brightness  when  turned  of 
seventy.  She  had  been  well  educated  and  had  fine  talents,  and 
loved  admiration  and  notice  just  enough  to  make  her  fluent  in 
conv^ersation,  united  with  pride  and  good  sense  sufficient  to  make 
her  careful  in  her  communications. 

In  the  latter  part  of  her  life,  she  lived  retired  and  in  seclusion. 
He  was  most  honored,  who  received  an  invitation  to  her  little 
supper  table.  Two  or  three  friends  only  would  be  found  there. 
She  supported  her  share  of  the  conversation  with  wonderful  ease 
and  sprightliness.  No  bitterness  upon  the  decay  of  good  society, 
the  almost  perpetual  theme  of  those  who  w^ere  once  fashionable, 
and  have  by  time,  or  change  of  circumstances,  passed,  as  out  of 
date,  was  ever  heard  in  her  house.  She  spoke  of  other  days 
Avith  cheerfulness,  without  a  sigh  that  they  had  gone.  She  had 
treasured  up  many  anecdotes  of  the  days  previous  and  during 
the  revolution,  and  told  them  as  one  who  took  no  airs  from  hav- 
ing been  an  actor  in  these  memorable  scenes.  There  was  not 
an  officer  in  the  British  army,  quartered  in  Boston,  whose  per- 
sonal appearance,  habits,  and  manners,  she  could  not  give  with 
accuracy  and  graphic  eflect.  Her  favorite  was  Earl  Percy ;  for 
his  forces  encamped  on  Boston  common  during  the  winter  of 
1774-5 ;  and  this  nobleman,  accustomed  to  all  the  luxuries  of 

39* 


462  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

high  born  Britons,  slept  among  his  regiment  in  a  tent,  no  more 
protected  from  the  cold  than  those  of  his  private  soldiers.  It  is 
not  a  little  remarkable,  that  the  traces  of  those  tents  are  still  to  be 
seen  on  the  common  when  the  grass  is  just  springing  out  of  the 
ground,  after  the  vernal  showers.  The  circles  around  the  tents 
are  as  distinct  as  ever.  At  the  daw^n  of  the  morning,  Mrs.  Scott 
says,  that  Earl  Percy's  voice  was  heard  drilling  his  men  on  the 
common. 

This  lady  had  an  opportunity,  after  the  capture  of  Burgoyne, 
of  extending:  her  courtesies  to  the  ladies  of  his  army,  while  at 
Cambridge,  under  the  convention.  They  were  gratefully  received 
and  never  forgotten.  When  Lafayette  was  here,  during  his  last 
visit,  he  made  an  early  call  on  his  old  friend  Mrs.  Scott,  formerly 
Madame  Hancock.  Those  who  witnessed  the  interview,  speak 
of  it  with  admiration.  The  once  youthful  chevalier  and  the 
splendid  belle  met,  as  if  only  a  season  had  passed  since  they  had 
danced  together  in  the  halls  of  the  assembly.  While  they  both 
were  contemplating  the  changes  time  had  produced,  they  smiled 
in  each  others  faces ;  but  no  word  was  uttered,  bearing  upon 
such  an  ungallant  subject.  She  was  not  always  so  silent  on  this 
subject.  One  of  her  young  friends  complimented  her  on  her 
good  looks.  She  laughingly  said,  "  what  you  have  said  is  more 
than  half  a  hundred  years  old;  my  ears  remember  it;  but  what 
were  dimples  once  are  wrinkles  now." 

In  her  opinions  of  men  of  her  time,  she  was  a  wonderfully  ac- 
curate judge,  particularly  of  those  intimate  at  her  table.  Among 
one  of  her  frequent  guests  was  a  patriot  who  represented  a 
tov/n  in  the  county  of  Essex,  in  that  state.  At  his  own  home 
his  influence  w^as  great.  He  said  but  little  in  mixed  company, 
although,  in  religious  assemblies,  he  spoke  and  prayed  with 
fluency.  The  politicians  washed  to  give  him  some  office,  but 
hesitated  to  decide  the  question  for  what  he  was  most  fitted, 
as  he  was  embarrassed  in  the  house  of  representatives  and  in 
large  circles.  Mrs.  Hancock,  at  once  understanding  his  charac- 
ter, playfully,  but  sincerely  replied,  "  Make  him  treasurer,  he  is 
too  honest  to  misapply  a  copper  himself,  and  too  shrewd  and 
firm  to  suffer  any  other  person  to  rob  him ;"  but  the  pious  and 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  463 

disinterested  patriot  would  not  be  seduced  into  office.  His  hon- 
esty was  rewarded  by  his  countrymen  suffering  him  to  die  with 
barrels  of  paper  money  stowed  away  in  his  garret,  for  which 
he  had  given  a  valuable  consideration,  and  for  which  he  never 
received  a  farthing.  Such  reward  had  America  to  offer  her 
patriots  and  the  children  of  her  martyrs. 

She  seldom  appeared  in  the  streets,  but  when  she  did,  the 
magnates  bowed  to  her  as  one  of  those  w^hom  they  had  delighted 
to  honor.  They  were  proud  to  remember  her,  and  prouder  still 
to  be  remembered  by  her.  To  the  last  day  of  her  life  she  was 
as  attentive  to  her  dress  as  when  first  in  the  circles  of  fashion. 
"  She  would  never  forgive  a  young  girl,"  she  said,  "  who  did  not 
dress  to  please,  nor  one  who  seemed  pleased  with  her  dress." 

She  died  in  1828,  in  the  seventy-eighth  year  of  her  age; 
content  that  she  had  lived  so  long,  and  not  reluctant  to  depart. 
Her  good  sense  was  constantly  apparent ;  and  no  one,  in  the 
course  of  her  long  life,  ever  questioned  her  benevolent  disposi- 
tion, or  doubted  the  sincerity  of  her  religious  faith.  She  deserves 
a  book  of  biography,  instead  of  a  page. 


]Mary  Starbuck.  If  we  look  at  the  origin  of  every  coun- 
try, state,  or  colony,  we  shall  find  that  the  women  had  more  to 
do  with  the  foundation  of  their  prosperity  than  the  men  :  but  it 
has  so  happened,  I  will  not  say  by  design,  but  rather  by  the 
course  of  events,  that  but  few  of  them  have  been  fairly  placed 
on  the  pages  of  history.  There  is  a  small  island,  within  the 
limits  of  Massachusetts,  known  to  most  of  the  ^vorld  from  the 
enterprise  and  wealth  of  its  inhabitants,  whose  history  is  unique 
— this  is  the  island  of  Nantucket.  In  1659,  it  was  taken  pos- 
Ksession  of  by  two  white  men  and  their  families,  Thomas  Macy, 
and  Edward  Starbuck.  They  fled  when  the  quakers  were  per- 
secuted, and  settled  on  this  island.  They  were  joined  by  others 
who  were  apprehensive  of  being  involved  with  Hugh  Peters, 
a  preacher  of  note,  who  had  been  prominent  in  the  revolution 
which  brought  Charles  I.  to  the  scaffold.  On  the  restoration 
of  his  son,  Charles  II.,  the  whole  world  was  searched  for  those 
who  had  been  unfriendly  to  his  father.     Among  these,  perhaps, 


464  *  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

although  not  of  great  importance,  were  those  who  settled  Nan- 
tucket; for  while  they  lived  at  Salisbury,  on  the  Merrimack, 
they  had  been  intimate  friends  of  Hugh  Peters.  People  in  a 
primitive  state  always  discriminate  m.ore  accurately  than  those 
of  a  more  advanced  standing.  The  aborigines  seldom  have  a 
coward  for  their  leader.  Mary  Starbuck,  the  wife  of  one  of 
these  first  settlers  of  Nantucket,  was  a  woman  of  superior  mind. 
The  influence  of  that  mind  commenced  when  she  had  but  few 
or  no  rivals ;  and  for  more  than  half  a  century,  she  exercised 
that  control,  that  great  sagacity  and  sound  sense,  with  virtuous 
principles,  always  deserve  to  have.  This  people  saw  their  in- 
sular situation,  and  knew  that,  as  they  increased,  the  soil  could 
not  be  depended  upon  alone  for  subsistence,  and  they  made 
their  harvests  on  the  waves  of  the  ocean,  a  territory,  which  no 
agrarian  law  could  reach.  Whales  were  seen  dashing  near 
them,  and  the  sight  was  too  tempting  for  them  to  refrain  from 
the  fishery.  They  knew  nothing  of  the  manner  of  harpooning 
them  at  that  time,  but  by  the  advice  of  Mary  Starbuck,  they 
sent  to  Cape  Cod  for  some  persons  acquainted  with  the  business 
of  catching  whales.  Interest  is  always  quick  sighted.  By  the 
advice  of  Mary  Starbuck,  the  system  which  has  characterized 
the  whalers  of  Nantucket  from  all  other  co-partners,  was  estab- 
lished. "  Let  each  have  an  interest,  and  every  one  will  do  his 
duty,"  was  her  maxim. 

More  than  sixty  large  ships  are  now  owned  in  Nantucket,  en- 
gaged in  the  whale  fishery.  The  first  whaling  vessels  were 
small ;  they  went  north,  then  south,  and  in  process  of  time  swept 
round  Cape  Horn,  when  larger  vessels  were  built ;  and  then 
they  circumnavigated  the  globe,  in  the  course  of  their  business. 
These  whalers,  perhaps,  now  little  think  how  much  they  are 
indebted  to  Mary  Starbuck  for  the  first  great  principles  which 
now  govern  these  voyages ;  and  but  little  did  Mary  Starbuck 
know  of  the  oceans  they  were  to  explore;  but  such  is  the  power 
of  mind,  well  directed  in  the  early  stages  of  society.  A  curious 
subject  of  contemplation  naturally  presents  itself,  as  we  see 
the  proud  whaling  ships,  returning  from  their  long  voyages, 
laden  with  valuable  cargoes,  and  then  run  back  to  the  origin 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  465 

and  progress  of  this  great  business,  to  the  time  when  Mary  Star- 
buck  saw  her  children  and  kindred  set  sail  for  the  monsters  of  the 
deep,  in  small  boats,  and  return  with  success.  If,  at  Nantucket, 
you  inquire  of  the  first  one  you  meet,  (and  these  islanders  are  an 
intelligent  people,)  for  the  monument  raised  to  Mary  Starbuck, 
the  answer  will  be,  Mary  has  no  monument.  If  you  ask,  well 
then,  where  was  she  buried?  Why,  I  never  heard  where;  but 
probably  on  that  rising  ground,  as  it  is  generally  understood  that 
it  was  once  used  as  a  burial  place,  and  there  is  one  small  grave- 
stone there  which  goes  to  support  the  tradition.  If  Mary  Star- 
buck  ever  had  a  monument,  the  sands  have  blown  over  it,  and 
it  cannot  be  found  at  this  day.  Tradition  does  not  assist  us  to 
speak  precisely  of  the  time  of  her  death,  but  represents  her  as 
living  to  a  good  old  age. 


Anna  Maria  A.  Schurman,  a  learned  German  lady,  was 
a  daughter  of  parents  who  were  both  descended  from  noble  pro- 
testant  families,  and  was  born  at  Cologne,  in  1607.  She  discov- 
ered from  her  infancy,  an  uncommon  facility  in  acquiring  various 
accomplishments.  She  cut  Avith  her  scissors,  from  paper,  all 
sorts  of  figures,  without  any  model.  She  was  skilled  in  embroid- 
ery, vocal  and  instrumental  music,  painting,  sculpture,  and  en- 
graving; and  is  said  to  have  succeeded  equally  in  all  these  arts. 
Mr.  Evelyn,  in  his  "  History  of  Caligraphy,"  has  observed, 
that  "  the  very  knowing  Anna  Maria  A.  Schurman  is  skilled  in 
this  art,  with  innumerable  others,  even  to  a  prodigy  of  her  sex." 
Her  hand  writing  in  all  languages  was  inimitable ;  and  some 
curious  persons  have  preserved  specimens  of  it  in  their  cabinets. 
M.  Joby,  in  his  journey  to  Munster,  relates  that  he  was  an  eye 
witness  to  the  beauty  of  her  hand  writing,  in  French,  Greek, 
Hebrew,  Syriac,  and  Arabic  ;  and  of  her  skill  in  drawing  in 
miniature,  and  making  portraits  on  glass  with  the  point  of  a  dia- 
mond. She  painted  her  own  picture  by  means  of  a  looking 
glass,  and  made  artificial  pearls  so  much  like  natural  ones,  that 
they  could  not  be  distinguished  but  by  pricking  them  with  a 
needle. 

The  powers  of  her  undertanding  were  not  inferior  to  her  skill 


466  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

in  these  arts ;  for  at  eleven,  when  her  brothers  were  examined  in 
the  Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew  languages,  she  often  whispered 
to  them  what  they  were  to  answer,  though  she  was  but  a  casual 
hearer  of  their  lessons.  Her  father,  therefore,  began  to  instruct 
her  more  perfectly  in  that  knowledge  which  made  her  so  justly 
celebrated ;  and  very  soon  the  Greek,  Latin,  and  Hebrew  lan- 
guages became  so  familiar  to  her,  that  she  not  only  wrote,  but 
spoke  them  in  a  manner  which  surpassed  the  most  learned  men. 
She  made  also  great  progress  in  the  Syriac,  Chaldee,  Arabic,  and 
Ethiopic ;  and  of  the  living  languages,  she  understood  and  spoke 
readily,  the  French,  English,  and  Italian.  She  was  completely 
versed  in  geography,  astromomy,  philosophy,  and  the  sciences, 
so  as  to  be  able  to  judge  of  them  with  exactness;  but  all  her 
accomplishments  yielded  at  last  to  divinity,  and  the  study  of  the' 
scriptures. 

Her  father,  who  had  settled  at  Utrecht,  and  afterwards  re- 
moved to  Frankfort,  for  the  more  convenient  education  of  his 
children,  died  there  in  1623.  His  widow  then  returned  to 
Utrecht,  where  Anna  Maria  continued  her  studies  very  intensely, 
which  probably  prevented  her  from  marrying,  as  she  might  have 
done,  Mr.  Cats,  commonly  called,  in  history,  Lord  Cats,  pension- 
ary of  Holland,  one  of  the  first  statesmen  of  his  age,  and  a  cele- 
brated poet,  who  wrote  verses  in  her  praise  when  she  was  only 
fourteen.     This  great  man  was  astonished  at  her  powers. 

Her  modesty,  which  was  as  great  as  her  knowledge,  would 
have,  in  a  measure,  kept  her  in  obscurity,  if  Rivetus,  Spanhiem, 
and  Vossius,  had  not  made  her  merit  known.  Salmasius,  also 
Beverovicius  and  Huygens,  maintained  a  literary  correspond- 
ence with  her ;  and  by  showing  her  letters,  spread  her  fame  into 
foreign  countries.  This  procured  her  a  correspondence  with 
Balzac,  Gassendi,  Mercennus,  Borhart,  Courart,  and  other  emi- 
nent men.  Persons  of  the  first  rank  paid  her  visits,  and  cardinal 
Richelieu  shared  her  marks  of  esteem.  About  1650,  a  great 
alteration  took  place  in  her  religious  creed.  She  performed  her 
devotions  in  private,  without  frequenting  any  church,  upon  which 
it  was  reported  that  she  was  inclined  to  popery ;  but  she  had  at- 
tached herself  to  the  famous  mystic  Labadie.     She  supported  him 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  467 

eflTectually  for  awhile.  By  her  influence,  Elizabeth,  Princess 
Palatine,  became  one  of  his  converts,  and  opened  an  asylum  to 
all  the  wandering  and  fugitive  disciples  of  that  preacher,  and 
esteemed  it  an  honor  to  collect  what  she  called  the  true  church, 
and  declared  her  joy  in  being  delivered  from  error,  which  she 
had  previously'-  cherished.  Miss  Schurman  followed  Labadie 
during  life,  and  supported  him  in  her  arms  when  dying,  1674  ; 
another  proof  that  fanaticism  has  great  influence  over  the  warm 
and  tender  hearts  of  women,  who,  thinking  no  evil  believe  none. 
She  afterwards  retired  to  Wiewart  in  Friseland,  where  William 
Penn,  the  quaker,  visited  her,  in  1677,  and  was  struck  with 
astonishment  at  her  wonderful  powers  of  mind.  She  died  at 
Friseland,  in  1678.  She  took  for  her  devise  these  words  of  St. 
Ignatius  :  "  Amor  mens  crucifixus  est."  She  wrote  many  works, 
one  defending  the  genius  and  taste  of  women  for  literature,  with 
letters  in  various  languages. 


Madame  de  Stael  may,  indeed,  be  said  to  have  established  a 
more  brilliant  reputation  in  the  republic  of  letters,  than  any  one 
of  her  sex  that  has  ever  lived.  Her  death,  which  happened  at 
Coppert,  in  Switzerland,  in  July  1817,  produced  an  almost 
unexampled  sensation,  the  more  lively,  on  account  of  the  stri- 
king and  affecting  circumstances  by  which  it  was  marked.  At 
the  commencement  of  the  year,  she  seemed  to  have  anchored 
firmly  in  the  port  of  earthly  happiness ;  the  storms  which  were 
constantly  gathering  over  her  head,  during  the  ascendency  of 
Bonaparte,  had  all  passed  away ;  she  was  safe  from  persecution 
and  exile ;  Lewis  XVIII.  had  restored  to  her  the  two  millions 
of  francs  which  her  father,  M.  Necker,  deposited  in  the  treasury 
of  France,  in  the  year  1790 ;  her  daughter  was  united  to  a  man 
of  the  highest  rank  and  of  distinguished  talents ;  her  residence 
in  Switzerland  had  become  a  shrine,  at  which  genius  and 
learning  were  always  to  be  found  assembled,  from  every  part  of 
Europe.  She  could  devote  her  leisure  to  composition,  with  all 
the  aids  to  be  drawn  from  the  most  intelligent  and  varied  soci- 
ety, an  abundant  fortune,  and  entire  freedom  of  opinion.  She 
was  yet  young,  comparatively,  not  having  exceeded  her  fiftieth 


468  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

year,  and  being  of  a  constitution  that  promised  a  long  life.  In 
the  midst  of  these  advantages,  she  was  suprised  by  a  fatal 
malady,  and  after  five  months  of  the  severest  suffering,  sunk  into 
the  arms  of  death.  Such  a  catastrophe  to  such  bright  hopes ; 
so  radiant  a  genius  so  unexpectedly  quenched ;  the  exuberant 
spring  of  so  much  rich  imagery  and  fine  philosophy  forever 
dried  up ;  the  centre  and  soul  of  so  captivating  a  society  irre- 
trievable gone,  were  considerations  that  rushed  at  once  upon 
all  minds  and  hearts,  and  gave,  in  her  case,  a  peculiar  solemnity 
and  sadness  to  the  common  fate  of  mortals. 

Madame  de  Stael  was  born  and  educated  to  splendid  destinies. 
Her  father,  M.  Necker,  was  a  farmer-general  of  immense  wealth, 
and  of  great  talents  and  knowledge ;  and  her  mother  was  re- 
markable for  the  extent  of  her  literary  attainments,  the  strength 
of  her  understanding,  and  the  dignity  of  her  character.  M. 
Necker,  even  when  at  the  head  of  the  finances  of  France,  might 
still  be  said  to  be  wrapped  up  in  this  their  only  child,  who 
requited  his  care  by  an  admiration  and  devotion  almost  fanatical, 
and  never  for  an  instant  interrupted  by  any  of  the  vicissitudes 
of  his  memorable  career.  At  an  early  age  she  married  a  man 
of  rank,  the  baron  de  Stael,  ambassador  from  Sweden  to  the 
court  of  France.  Placed  thus,  by  reason  of  the  situation  of 
both  flitlier  and  husband,  in  the  very  vortex  of  the  dissipation  of 
the  French  court,  she  yet  sought  and  contrived  to  win  the 
highest  distinction  in  the  walks  of  literature.  She  had  only 
reached  her  twentieth  year  when  she  published  her  "  Letters 
upon  the  works  and  character  of  J.  J.  Rousseau,"  wherein  she 
displayed,  occasionally,  powers  of  composition  almost  rivalling 
those  of  the  extraordinary  man  of  whom  she  treated.  Able 
critics  have  decided  that  she  presented,  in  this  little  volume,  a 
more  satisfactory  analysis  and  juster  views  of  the  genius  and 
tendency  of  his  writings,  than  are  contained  in  the  many  pon- 
derous dissertions  to  which  the  controversy  on  these  topics  has 
given  birth.  She  was  of  opinion  that  Rousseau  had  been  guilty 
of  suicide,  and  gave  some  offence  to  his  worshippers,  by  bringing 
together  all  the  circumstances  which  lead,  as  we  think,  irresisti- 
bly, to  that  conclusion.     It  was  over  the  women  of  his  day  that 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  469 

Rousseau  had  thrown  his  deepest  spell,  and  it  redounds  to  the 
credit  of  Madame  de  Stael's  youthful  judgment,  that  she  escaped 
with  something  of  a  moderate  degree  of  enthusiasm  for  the  works 
of  the  arch  enemy  of  order  and  morals.  The  "  Letters  upon 
Rousseau"  attracted  much  attention,  and  were  assailed  in  several 
pamphlets,  to  one  of  which  the  fair  author  replied  in  a  powerful 
strain  of  vindication. 

In  the  year  1790,  she  printed  two  dramatic  effusions  in  verse  ; 
the  one  a  comedy,  entitled  "  Sophia,  or  Secret  Sentiments,"  the 
other,  a  tragedy,  "  The  Lady  Jane  Gray  :"  hoth  composed  two 
years  preceding.  In  the  month  of  August,  1793,  appeared  her 
"  Defence  of  Marie  Antoinette ;"  that  is,  two  months  hefore  the 
execution  of  the  unhappy  queen.  We  owe  a  tribute  of  praise  to 
the  generosity  of  spirit  which  dictated  this  production,  and  to 
the  courage  implied  in  the  publication  of  it  at  such  a  period. 
Madame  de  Stael  had  the  best  opportunities  of  observing  the 
character  of  the  so  much  reviled  consort  of  Lewis  XVL ;  she 
approached  her  often,  and  was  the  less  liable  to  view  her  with 
partiality,  as  the  queen  would  have  prevented  the  return  of  M. 
Necker  to  the  ministry,  and  took  no  pains  to  conceal  her  aversion 
to  the  predominance  of  his  counsels.  His  daughter  stood  forth 
fearlessly  in  her  defence,  in  the  hour  of  danger,  and,  to  the  last, 
asserted  her  titles  to  esteem. 

The  masculine  genius  with  which  Madame  de  Stael  was  en- 
dowed, and  the  restless  activity  of  her  spirit,  would  have  led  her 
to  politics,  had  not  even  the  conjuncture  and  her  domestic  rela- 
tions been  such  as  they  were,  and  the  habits  of  her  sex  in  France 
conducive  to  that  end.  We  may  conjecture  how  far  they  were 
privileged  in  the  world  of  business,  by  the  remarks  which  she 
makes  on  the  subject  in  the  work  last  mentioned.  "  Women  of 
a  certain  rank  used  to  intefere  with  every  thing  before  the  revo- 
lution. Their  husbands  and  their  brothers  were  in  the  practice 
of  employing  them  on  all  occasions  as  applicants  to  ministers ; 
they  could  urge  a  point  strongly,  with  less  apparent  impropriety ; 
could  even  outstep  the  proper  limits,  without  affording  an  open- 
ing to  complaint;  and  all  the  insinuations,  which  they  knew  how 

to  employ,  gave  them  considerable  influence  over  men  in  office." 

40 


470  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

Madame  de  Stael  appeared  no  where  in  foreign  countries  as 
a  stranger ;  at  London,  as  well  as  at  Paris,  at  Rome  and  Weymar, 
she  was  equally  in  her  element,  and  naturalized  herself  at  once 
in  the  society  of  finest  intelligences ;  she  w^as  mistress  of  the 
principal  languages  of  Europe,  and  familiar  with  the  literature 
of  Italy,    Germany,  and   England.     Her   instinctive  sagacity 
pointed,  and  her  enthusiasm  kindled,  at  what  was  excellent  in 
the  literary  productions,  political  institutions,  and  social  habits 
of  the  nations  which  she  visited ;  she  celebrated  what  she  ad- 
mired, according  to  the  gratification  afforded  to  her  exquisite 
tastes  and  deep  sensibility.     In  Italy,  she  was  all  alive  to  the 
prodigies  of  art,  to  the  beauty  of  the  climate,  to  the  fervor  of  the 
native  genius,  and  the  ease  of  social  intercourse.     In  Germany, 
she  was  captivated  by  the  solidity  and  simplicity  of  character, 
the  independence  of  the  literary  spirit,  the  hardihood  of  the  phi- 
losophical  theories,  the  novelty  and    raciness  of  the   poetical 
style  and  imagery.     In  England,  the  political  institutions  were 
.seen  by  her  in  their  abstract  perfection,  and  contrasted  with  what 
she  had  witnessed  and  loathed  in  her  own  country,  of  arbitrary 
rule,  and  personal  insecurity ;  the  purer  morals,  the  sounder 
sense,  the  more  general  information  and  rational  philosophy,  the 
natural  dignity  and  manly  tone  of  the  British,  made  the  deepest 
impression  upon   her,  and  accordingly  she  has,  in  the   third 
volume  of  her  "  Considerations,"  where  she  treats  at  large  of 
England,  the  air  of  a  determined  and  interested  eulogist.     What- 
ever she  undertook  to  describe,  received,  moreover,  the  hues  of 
her  own  fancy,  and  was  more  or  less  affected  in  the  representa- 
tion, by  her  original  modes  of  expression.   The  kindness  of  her 
nature,  too,  had  its  influence,  and  is  evidenced  by  the  prodigality 
of  her  praises. 

It  is  known,  that  she  formed  the  resolution,  at  one  period,  ot 
emigrating  to  these  United  States.  We  heartily  wish  she  had 
done  so,  as  she  was  already  prepared  by  her  political  opinions, 
to  view  our  institutions  Avith  an  unclouded  and  even  an  affec- 
tionate eye.  She  has  not  overlooked  this  nation  in  her  "  Con- 
siderations," and  it  is  with  particular  satisfaction  that  we  transcribe 
the  following  passages  of  the  third  volume.     "  That  admirable 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  471 

good  sense,  which  is  founded  on  justice  and  security,  exists  no 
where  but  in  England  or  in  America."****"  There  is  a  people 
who  will  one  day  be  very  great,  I  mean  the  Americans.  One 
stain  only  obscures  the  perfect  splendor  of  reason  that  vivifies 
that  country ;  slavery  still  subsists  in  the  southern  provinces ; 
but  when  congress  shall  have  found  a  remedy  for  that  evil,  how 
shall  we  be  able  to  refuse  the  most  profound  respect  to  the  insti- 
tutions of  the  United  States  ?  Whence  comes  it  then,  that  many 
English  allow  themselves  to  speak  with  disdain  of  such  a 
people  ?  "  They  are  shop-keepers,"  they  repeat.  And  how  did 
the  courtiers  of  Louis  XIV.  talk  of  the  English  themselves  ? 
The  people  of  Bonaparte's  court  also,  what  did  they  say  ?  The 
Americans,  it  is  true,  declared  war  against  England  at  a  very 
ill-chosen  time,  with  respect  to  Europe.  But  America,  on  this 
occasion,  looked  only  to  what  concerned  her  interest ;  and  she 
can  certainly  not  be  suspected  of  having  wished  to  favor  the 
imperial  system.  But  could  the  declaring  war  unseasonably 
against  England,  justify  the  burning  of  Washington  ?  What  is 
there  more  honorable  for  mankind  than  this  new  world,  which 
has  established  itself  without  the  prejudices  of  the  old;  this  new 
world,  where  religion  is  in  all  its  fervor,  without  needing  the 
support  of  the  state  to  maintain  it ;  where  the  law  commands  by 
the  respect  it  inspires,  without  being  enforced  by  any  military 
power  V 

On  the  restoration  of  the  Bourbons,  the  interdict  of  Napoleon 
against  her,  was  rescinded,  and  she  repaired  to  Paris,  from 
which  no  length  of  absence  could  estrange  her  affections.  It  was 
there  that  her  sympathies  had  the  fullest  gratification,  and  that 
she  triumphed  anew,  at  almost  every  moment,  by  her  colloquial 
powers,  which,  out  of  France,  could  not  be  exercised  with  the 
same  freedom  and  effect;  although,  as  we  can  testify,  it  was  not 
necessary  to  be  a  native  of  that  country,  to  be  sensible  of  their 
surpassing  versatility  and  energy.  She  adhered,  under  Louis 
XVIIL,  to  her  liberal  doctrines  in  politics  and  literature,  and 
her  dwelling  in  Paris  continued,  during  the  first  year  of  the 
restoration,  to  be  the  head-quarters  of  what  was  styled  the  liberal 
party. 


472  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

In  the  midst  of  the  bustle  of  political  revolutions,  and  the 
conflict  of  party-interests,  she  found  leisure  to  raise  a  monument 
to  the  memory  of  her  father,  in  the  interesting  volume  entitled 
•'  Life  of  M.  Necker."  The  two  last  years  of  her  life,  she  was 
chiefly  employed  in  preparing  for  the  press,  her  great  work,  the 
"  Considerations  on  the  principal  events  of  the  French  revolu- 
tion," which  has  been  recently  published  in  three  volumes,  octavo, 
by  her  son  and  son  in  law.  The  first  and  second  volumes,  and 
a  portion  of  the  third,  received  her  last  corrections.  The  news- 
papers have  given  remarkable  accounts,  w^hich  we  do  not  sup- 
pose to  be  in  the  least  exaggerated,  of  the  avidity  with  which 
this  posthumous  publication  has  been  sought  and  read  in  Europe. 
By  her  early  opportunities,  her  high  connections,  and  her  range 
of  observation,  Madame  de  Stael  was  especially  qualified  for 
passing  in  review  the  events,  parties,  characters,  and  results  of 
the  French  revolution ;  and  the  knowledge  of  this  adventitious 
aptitude,  independently  of  her  reputation  for  ability  as  a  writer, 
served  to  excite  in  the  European  world,  a  lively  curiosity. 
There  is  enough,  particularly  in  the  two  first  volumes  of  the 
"  Considerations,"  to  reward  it,  and  to  secure  to  her  a  foremost 
rank  among  political  authors.  The  investigation  with  which 
she  sets  out,  of  the  causes  of  the  fall  of  the  monarchy,  is  not  so 
satisfactory  to  us,  as  some  other  inquiries  which  we  have  read ; 
and  we  would  cite  as  the  preferable  one,  in  our  estimation,  that 
of  Senac  de  Meilhan,  whom  she  unwarily  pronounces  a  super- 
ficial writer.  But  she  is  eminently  successful  in  describing  the 
first  movements,  and  developing  the  principles  and  aims  of  the 
early  parties  of  the  revolution,  preparatively  to  exhibiting,  as 
she  does  in  firm  and  speaking  profile,  the  whole  series  of  the 
revolutionary  governments.  The  last  of  these,  that  of  Bonaparte, 
concentered  in  the  man,  being  of  deeper  concern  to  her  and  the 
world,  shares,  with  her  father's  administration,  her  most  earnest 
attention  and  vigorous  touches.  She  will  have  ample  revenge 
for  her  personal  wrongs,  if  posterity  should  decide  on  the 
character  of  Napoleon  from  her  final  representations ;  and  in 
truth,  we  know  of  none  better  entitled  to  determine  its  judgment, 
when  we  consider  the  certainty  and  cogency  of  the  facts,  the 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  473 

sagacity  of  the  reasonings,  and  the  soundness  of  the  principles, 
by  which  they  are  supported.  If  there  be,  here,  some  stirrings 
of  passion  and  private  feeling,  scarcely  any  thing  of  the  kind  is 
visible  in  the  preceding  parts  of  her  work,  except,  as  we  have 
already  intimated,  in  relation  to  the  impeccability  of  her  father's 
administration.  In  all  the  rest,  including  even  the  exposition  of 
the  state  of  affairs,  and  the  conduct  of  parties  after  the  reinstate- 
ment of  the  Bourbons,  contained  in  the  third  volume,  she  dis- 
plays a  remarkable  degree  of  impartiality,  candor,  and  calmness 
of  deliberation ;  so  as  to  leave  us  under  the  impression  that  her 
"  Considerations"  are  likely  to  have  the  most  salutary  effect,  at 
all  times,  upon  the  public  mind  of  France.  Her  tone,  as  to 
the  value  and  indispensableness  of  free  institutions,  is  uniformly 
peremptory,  and  indicative  of  the  steady  elevation  and  inde- 
pendence of  her  spirit ;  and  it  is  impossible  for  the  reader  not 
to  be  convinced  that  she  was  chiefly  actuated,  in  the  composition 
of  the  work,  by  the  hope  of  promoting  the  liberties  of  France 
in  the  first  place,  and  then  of  the  human  race.  She  excels  in  her 
historical  portraits,  which  are  numerous,  and  drawn  from  the 
life.  We  have,  too,  some  fifle  specimens  of  historical  criticism, 
to  which,  although  it  is  so  commonly  attempted,  none  but  an 
understanding  of  the  highest  order,  is  properly  equal.  The  last 
six  or  eight  chapters  of  the  third  volume,  have  the  objectionable 
features  of  a  rough  draught ;  but  contain  a  number  of  those 
luminous  general  reflections,  which  are  so  thickly  sown  in  the 
finished  portions  of  the  work. 

The  productions  which  we  have  mentioned,  do  not  make  up 
the  whole  of  Madame  de  Stael's  literary  labors.  She  published 
besides,  "  Zulma,  and  three  novels,  preceded  by  an  essay  on 
Fictions;"  "  Reflections  on  Suicide,"  &c.,  and  contributed  the 
articles  "Aspasia,"  "Cleopatra,"  "Camoens,"  &c.  in  the  Univer- 
sal Biography.  Her  son  proposes  to  publish  a  complete  edition 
of  her  works,  in  which  will  be  included  some  inedited  pieces, 
and  among  these,  the  fragments  of  a  work  begun  under  the 
title  of  "  Ten  Years  of  Exile." 

While,  then,  we  commemorate  admiringly  the  many  excellent 

qualities  of  the  heart  which  disting-uished  Madame  de  Stael,  and 

40* 


474  FEMALE   BIOGRAPHY, 

class  her  with  the  most  powerful  intelligences  and  eloquent 
writers  of  the  age,  we  find  her  far  less  respectable,  as  she  must 
have  found  herself,  with  all  her  celebrity,  and  far  less  happy,  for 
want  of  delicacy  of  conduct,  than  the  Mores,  the  Edgeworths,  and 
the  Hamiltons  of  Britain,  whose  lives  and  writings  conspire  to 
strengthen  the  sacred  delicacy  of  the  sex,  and  to  teach  the  true 
ends  of  female  ambition. 


Thona,  a  Moorish  Spaniard,  who  is  called  the  Habeba  of  Va- 
lencia, was  skilled  in  grammar,  and  jurisprudence,  and  wrote 
celebrated  books  on  both  subjects,  which  were  of  high  authority 
in  her  day,  and  long  afterwards.  It  was  during  the  state  of 
Moorish  power,  three  centuries  and  a  half  before  the  conquest 
of  Grenada,  when  the  Moors  were  revelling  in  all  the  Arabian 
literature  which  had  come  to  them  from  the  days  of  Haroun  al 
Raschid,  who  lived  two  centuries  before  her.  Thona  died  in  the 
year  1 127.  The  prejudice  of  the  Christians  was  so  great  against 
the  Moors,  that  it  is  wonderful  that  any  thing  of  taste  or  talent 
should  have  been  suffered  to  have  come  down  to  this  time,  through 
the  cells  of  the  inquisition.  Still  it  should  be  remembered  that  in 
Spain,  in  former  days,  some  bold  and  admirable  doctrines,  even 
of  liberty,  have  been  entertained  and  divulged. 


TuLLiA  OF  ARRAGdN,  a  Neapolitan  lady,  celebrated  for  her 
erudition,  understanding,  and  poetical  talents,  was  born  at  Na- 
ples, and  flourished  about  the  year  1550.  She  was  carried  to 
Rome  in  her  infancy,  and  brought  up  in  that  city  with  the  great- 
est care.  When  very  young,  the  study  of  polite  literature,  and 
the  exercise  of  that  happy  talent  for  poetry  which  she  possessed, 
formed  her  highest  enjoyment.  She  soon  became  known,  and 
was  early  classed  with  the  most  illustrious  of  the  learned.  She 
afterwards  passed  several  years  at  Venice,  w^here  her  society 
was  much  courted  by  all  people  of  merit  or  science.  She  wrote 
many  miscellaneou's  poems,  which  appeared  at  first  scattered  in 
sex^eral  different  collections,  but  were  collected  and  published  at 
Venice  in  1547.  They  bear  marks  of  genius,  and  a  sprightly 
imagination,  and  are  much  praised  for  purity  of  style. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  475 

Maria  Van  Ness,  wife  of  the  Honorable  John  Van  Ness,  of 
the  city  of  Washington,  was  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Burns,  an  ori- 
ginal proprietor  of  the  glebe  of  that  city,  with  one  or  two  others. 
His  daughter  Maria  was  born  there,  then  a  part  of  the  state  of 
Marj'-land,  on  the  ninth  of  May,  1782.  She  was  well  educated 
for  those  times.  She  saw  the  surveyor  first  run  his  lines  for 
the  federal  city,  and  mark  out  the  first  public  street.  In  1802 
she  was  married  to  John  Van  Ness,  then  a  member  of  Congress 
from  some  part  of  the  state  of  New- York.  On  his  marriage  to 
Miss  Burns,  he  declined  another  election  from  his  district,  and 
took  up  his  residence  in  the  city  of  Washington.  Mrs.  Van 
Ness  was  a  well  educated  woman,  of  a  pious  and  charitable  cast. 
She  had  but  one  child,  a  daughter,  who  lived  to  be  married  to 
Mr.  Middleton,%  young  gentleman  of  South  Carolina,  but  she 
died  in  less  than  a  year  after  her  bridal  day,  and  lies  buried  in 
a  vault  made  on  the  site  of  the  old  family  burial-ground  of  her 
maternal  ancestors,  over  which  Mr.  Van  Ness  erected  an  elegant 
monument  after  the  model  of  the  temple  of  the  winds  at  Athens, 
the  first  monument  of  the  kind  in  the  United  States.  In  that 
same  place  of  re.st  Mrs.  Van  Ness  now  reposes.  This  is  men- 
tioned to  explain  the  reason  that  the  citizens  of  Washington  did 
not  vote  her  a  monument  in  their  gratitude  for  her  charitable 
deeds,  when  they  met,  after  her  decease,  to  honor  her  memory. 

Mrs.  Van  Ness  was  a  leader  in  forming  all  the  charitable 
institutions  of  Washington,  in  which  ladies  take  the  burden  upon 
themselves.  A  society  was  incorporated  for  establishing  a 
female  orphan  asylum,  and  she  gave  them  a  suitable  parcel  of 
land  for  the  purpose  of  building  an  edifice  convenient  for  such 
a  design.  This  institution  is  in  a  flourishing  condition.  She 
was  not  only  active  in  this,  but  in  all  those  plans  which  charity 
demands  of  justice  and  of  wealth  in  this  world.  She  only  con- 
sidered herself  a  steward  of  her  property  for  the  benefit  of  the 
needy.  She  was  a  woman  of  good  sound  sense,  of  lady-like 
manners,  and  of  great  energy  of  character,  and  was  respected 
and  honored  by  all  classes  of  people  in  the  city  of  Washington. 
She  was  mild,  charitable,  and  forgiving,  but  firm  in  her  princi- 
ples and  inflexible  in  her  purposes.     Neither  the  entreaties  of 


476  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

friends,  ever  so  near  and  dear  to  her,  or  the  intimations  of  official 
authority,  or  the  strong  ties  of  party,  could  influence  her  to 
yield  to  do  that  which  her  conscience  forbid.  She  saw  company 
with  cheerfulness,  for  it  was  the  wish  of  her  husband  that  she 
should  mingle  in  some  measure  with  the  world,  but  she  pre- 
ferred to  be  engaged  in  errands  of  charity,  to  visits  of  pleasure. 
She  was  in  high  esteem  with  all  the  religious  sects  of  the  city, 
and  but  few  knew  to  which  she  belonged  without  special  enquiry. 
All  spoke  of  her  as  of  a  mother  in  Israel,  without  enquiring  to 
which  tribe  she  belonged.  There  is  much  to  be  done  in  old 
cities  where  charitable  institutions  have  been  long  established, 
but  in  a  new  one,  the  field  is  unoccupied,  and  new  altars  are  to 
be  reared,  new  lamps  to  be  placed  on  the  shrines  of  charity,  and 
to  be  kept  trimmed  and  burning. 

Mrs.  Van  Ness  died  on  the  ninth  of  September,  1832,  and  the 
announcement  of  her  decease  cast  a  gloom  over  the  whole  city. 
The  citizens  without  distinction  of  political  party  or  religious 
creeds,  had  a  meeting  to  express  their  grief  at  her  departure 
from  her  labors  of  charity  and  piety,  and  to  fix  on  some  method 
of  bearing  testimony  to  her  worth.  The  citizens  voted  to  pro- 
cure a  plate  to  be  put  on  her  coffin,  with  an  inscription,  detailing 
her  virtues  and  expressing  their  gratitude.  This  was  done,  and 
the  whole  city  may  be  said  to  have  attended  her  funeral. 

This  is  the  first  instance  on  record  in  the  United  States,  in 
which  a  city  or  a  town  were  called  together  to  devise  funeral 
honors  to  a  female.  Julius  Cesar  delivered  a  funeral  oration 
over  his  departed  wife  Livia,  and  this  act  is  remembered  when 
a  hundred  of  his  orations  have  been  forgotten.  In  our  times, 
grave  divines  have  preached  a  sermon  on  the  death  of  some  dis- 
tinguished woman  in  their  congregation,  and  it  is  from  these 
productions  that  we  gather  most  of  our  scanty  materials  for  the 
female  biography  of  this  country.  Sometimes  the  preachers 
have  felt  deeply,  and  have  spoken  enthusiastically,  but  seldom 
have  exaggerated  any  thing.  In  general,  these  productions  are 
rather  solemn  appeals  to  the  living,  to  be  ready  for  death,  than 
fair  analyses  of  the  character  of  the  dead.  The  writers  of  a 
former  age,  from  some  strange  reason,  hardly  to  be  accounted 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  477 

for  at  the  present  day,  were  unskilled  in  writing  eulogies   or 
epitaphs,  to  the  departed  worth  of  the  females  of  our  country. 


Mary  Wolstoncraft,  the  wife  of  Major  Wolstoncraft,  of 
the  United  States  army,  was  the  daughter  of  a  New  England 
clergyman.  ~She  was  the  second  wife  of  the  major,  he  having 
been  divorced  from  the  first.  They  lived  together  in  New-Or- 
leans several  years  before  the  major's  death ;  and  Mary,  among 
other  duties,  was  devoted  to  the  education  of  a  daughter  of  his, 
by  his  first  wife.  Mrs.  Wolstoncraft  was  a  woman  of  most  ex- 
alted genius.  She  was  engaged  in  every  charitable  work  in 
New  Orleans,  while  her  husband  was  living,  for  he  was  thought 
to  be  a  man  of  great  wealth,  but  which  was  in  a  good  degree 
lost  by  his  death  ;  for  when  a  speculator  of  many  concerns  dies 
suddenly,  the  thousand  things  which  drop  from  his  hands,  are 
with  difficulty  gathered  up  by  any  one,  however  sagacious  ;  but 
bad  as  it  was,  she  realized  something,  and  left  that  region  for 
the  east  of  the  United  States.  Here,  after  a  while,  she  found 
the  winters  too  severe  for  a  constitution  so  long  accustomed  to 
warmer  suns,  and  she  made  purchase  of  estates,  and  took  up  her 
residence  in  the  island  of  Cuba.  While  there,  hex  active  mind 
w^as  not  only  engaged  in  agriculture,  but  in  botany  and  natural 
history.  She  wrote  a  series  of  letters  upon  Cuba,  evincing  more 
knowledge  of  the  soil,  climate,  productions,  manners  and  cus- 
toms of  the  inhabitants,  than  any  other  one  who  has  written  on 
the  subject.  Several  of  them  were  shown  to  the  late  intelligent 
William  Shaler,  consul  to  Havana,  and  he  pronounced  them 
admirable.  While  residing  there,  she  pursued  her  favorite 
study,  botany,  and  made  drawings  of  many  of  the  plants  of  that 
island,  colored  from  nature;  and  also  some  specimens  of  orni- 
thology, zoology,  and  icthyology,  were  exhibited  by  her  to  the 
writer  of  this  notice,  and  he  has  no  hesitation  in  avowing  that 
they  were  superior  in  drawing  to  any  that  he  has  ever  seen, 
and  but  few  things  of  this  nature  have  escaped  his  observation. 
The  descriptions  given  of  every  drawing,  in  every  branch,  was 
accurate  and  felicitous.  This  work  was  in  her  life  time  exhibit- 
ed to  many,  but  was  never  published,  as  the  undertaking  would 


478  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

have  greatly  exceeded  the  spirit  of  the  times ;  since  then,  Wilson, 
Bonaparte,  and  Audehorn  have  effected  much  in  the  way  of 
natural  history,  and  others  in  botany.  Mrs.  Wolstoncraft  held 
a  most  vigorous  pen,  as  the  letters  from  Cuba,  and  the  article  on 
the  "  Rights  of  Women,"  published  in  the  Boston  Monthly  Mag- 
azine, in  1825,  will  fully  show.  She  had  no  sympathy  in  the 
religious  sentiments  of  Mary  Wolstoncraft,  the  wife  of  Godwin^ 
her  husband's  sister,  but  she  wrote  on  the  rights  of  women, 
with  quite  as  much  force,  and  more  justice.  Seldom  have  we 
read  an  article  of  more  pith  and  point  than  the  one  we  allude  to 
from  her  pen. 

In  conversation  she  was  fluent,  original,  and  fascinating.  She 
was  many  years  laboring  under  the  evils  of  a  slow  consumption, 
hut  she  never  lost  her  cheerfulness,  only  regretting  that  she  must 
leave  this  world  before  she  could  do  some  good  in  raising  the 
condition  of  her  sex  in  the  mental  world.  She  indulged  in  severe 
remarks  upon  the  course  of  female  education,  as  she  had  seen 
it;  where  years  of  great  expense  had  been  wasted  upon  showy 
accomplishments,  taught  by  pretenders,  to  show  off  a  pretty 
girl,  and  which,  when  the  day  of  exhibition  had  passed,  were 
good  for  nothing.  The  United  States  furnished  her  with  a  suffi- 
cient number  of  facts  to  support  her  positions,  as  to  the  insuffi- 
ciency of  the  education  of  young  females,  and  ten  thousand 
fathers  could  assist  her  in  making  out  the  expenses  of  such 
shallow  educations.  The  progress  of  reformation  is  slow,  but 
seems  to  be  sure.  Much  has  been  done  since  she  wrote,  towards 
reforming  this  absurdity,  but  much  remains  to  be  done  by  those 
who  are  now  on  the  stage.  Most  are  too  ignorant,  many  are  too 
busy,  and  some  too  idle,  to  set  about  this  great  work  of  reform- 
ing female  education.  Mrs.  Wolstoncraft  died  a  few  years  since, 
in  Cuba,  but  not  so  soon  as  she  anticipated,  by  two  or  three  years. 
Her  portfolio  must  have  been  rich  in  miscellaneous  matter,  for 
but  few  subjects  passed  her  powerful  mind  without  some  discus- 
sion, and  she  threw  a  beam  of  light  on  every  thing  she  had 
under  contemplation.  She  wrote  poetry  as  well  as  prose,  and 
was  happy  in  her  muse,  but  on  this  branch  of  literature  she  did 
not  feel  it  her  duty  to  bestow  much  attention,  as  she  was  bent  on 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  479 

enlightening  the  female  mind,  and  she  thought  that  this  should 
be  done  in  the  most  direct  and  plain  language.  If  she  wore  a 
blue  stocking,  she  maintained  her  right  to  do  so,  and  did  it  in  so 
masterly  a  manner,  that  it  would  have  required  no  ordinary 
nerve  to  have  disputed  it.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  some  one  will 
do  this  great  woman  justice. 


Mercy  Warren,  the  wife  of  James  Warren,  a  distinguished 
statesman  and  patriot,  who  flourished  before,  and  during  the  revo- 
lutionary conflict,  was  born  at  Barnstable,  in  the  old  colony  of 
Plymouth,  in  1727.  She  was  the  daughter  of  colonel  James 
Otis,  of  Barnstable,  and  sister  to  James  Otis,  the  great  leader  of 
the  revolution  in  Massachusetts.  Mrs.  Warren  had  fine  talents, 
highly  cultivated.  Her  brother,  the  great  patriot,  two  years  older 
than  herself,  was  an  excellent  scholar,  and  directed  and  assisted 
his  sister  in  her  studies.  Mrs.  Warren  had  an  active,  as  well  as 
a  powerful  mind,  and  took  a  part  in  the  politics  of  the  day.  She 
kept  a  correspondence  with  some  of  the  active  statesmen  of  the 
times,  and  of  course  was  well  informed  in  all  that  was  going  on 
in  this  country,  and  in  England.  She  wrote  several  satirical 
pieces,  poetical  and  dramatic,  which  it  is  said,  by  those  who  lived 
at  that  time,  had  a  good  effect  in  keeping  down  tory  influence. 
The  bold  and  daring  Brigadier  Ruggles,  severely  felt  the  force 
of  her  lash.  It  is  said  she  intended  to  designate  him  by  one  of  the 
characters  in  the  "Group,"  an  irregular  dramatic  piece,  contain- 
ing much  satire  even  now,  when  some  of  the  peculiar  incidents 
are  lost.  Mrs.  Warren  wrote  also  two  tragedies,  of  five  acts  each, 
and  of  common  length.  The  first  is,  the  "  Sack  of  Rome,"  and 
the  other,  "  The  ladies  of  Castile."  These  dramas  were  written 
during  the  war,  and  published  before  the  close  of  it,  as  early  as 
1778.  These  productions  are  full  of  patriotic  feeling  and  heroic 
sentiments.  The  writer  was  master  of  rythm,  and  her  lines  can 
be  scanned ;  a  century  hence  they  will  be  sought  for,  and  read 
with  enthusiasm.  They  are  preserved  in  a  volume  with  other 
poems,  which  were  printed  in  her  life  time.  It  is  not  easy,  at  the 
present  time,  for  us  to  believe  all  that  has  been  said  of  the  efl^ects 
of  her  writings,  but  the  tradition  is  too  well  authenticated  to  leave 


480  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

a  doubt  of  it  on  our  minds.  She  also  wrote  the  history  of  the 
revolutionary  war,  which  she  published  in  three  volumes,  in 
1805,  more  than  twenty-two  years  after  the  close  of  the  scenes 
she  narrates.  This  is  an  excellent  work  of  its  kind,  rather 
combined  with  a  free  spirit  of  democracy.  In  her  delineations  of 
character,  she  was  a  little  too  suspicious  of  aristocratic  feelings. 
In  drawing  the  portrait  of  John  Adams,  she  exhibited  him  as  in- 
clining to  aristocratic  principles,  which  produced  a  sharp  corres- 
pondence between  the  statesman  and  historian,  but  which  was 
amicably  settled,  and  notes  of  courtesy  passed  betv/een  them. 
She  held  a  free  pen,  and  the  great  defender  of  independence  was 
not  remarkable  for  the  virtue  of  the  man  of  Uz.  This  history 
shows  great  research  and  sound  judgment. 

It  is  seldom  that  women  have  written  of  battles  with  any  suc- 
cess, even  in  fiction.  Miss  Porter  is  perhaps  an  exception,  and 
certainly  Mrs.  Warren  shows  that  she  had  some  idea  of  a  fight. 
In  the  American  female  historian's  works,  there  is  one  remark- 
able feature,  that  is,  she  is  careful  in  detailing  circumstances,  and 
indulges  in  no  fears  in  defeat,  and  no  rhapsodies  in  victory. 
Mrs.  Warren  was  in  advance  of  the  age  as  a  female  writer. 
Neither  Hannah  More,  Miss  Edgeworth,  Baillie,  or  any  of  that 
bright  coterie  of  fair  ones,  who  have  come  forward  of  late  years, 
were  in  her  time  known  to  the  reading  public ;  and  it  was  settled 
almost  as  common  law,  that  women  were  not  to  presume  to  teach 
the  reading  world,  particularly  in  the  graver  matters  of  history 
and  politics.  Mrs.  Warren  made  herself  unpopular  in  taking  a 
part  against  the  adoption  of  the  constitution.  She  supplied  the 
opposition  in  the  convention  of  Massachusetts,  of  1777,  with  all 
their  arguments ;  but  they  could  not  deliver  them  with  her 
eloquence,  and  they  failed.  Mrs.  Warren's  life  was  protracted 
to  a  great  age.  She  died  in  the  autumn  of  1814,  aged  eighty- 
seven,  having  possessed  as  good  a  share  of  intellect,  as  much 
information,  and  more  influence,  arising  from  mental  superiority, 
than  falls  to  the  lot  of  more  than  one  woman  in  one  age.  Her 
descendants  are  numerous  and  respectable ;  and  some  one  of 
them  should  give  us  a  biography  of  their  ancestor,  with  a  col- 
lection of  her  letters. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  481 

Mary  White,  was  the  daug-hter  of  Dr.  Wilder,  a  physician 
of  celebrity,  in  Concord,  in  the  state  of  Massachusetts.  She  was 
born  in  1781,  at  that  place,  and  was  a  favorite  from  the  cradle; 
a  child  of  lovely  manners  and  docile  temper.  Her  education 
was  carefully  attended  to,  but  no  task  was  ever  crowded  on  her, 
for  she  was  constantly  in  advance  of  her  associates.  With  a 
form  that  might  have  represented  the  delicate  Ariel,  she  had  a 
mind  that  threw  a  powerful  spell  over  every  acquaintance.  She 
was  not  only  well  read  in  English  and  French  literature,  but 
accomplished  in  the  tasteful  arts.  She  had  many  admirers,  but 
gave  her  hand  to  a  French  gentleman,  of  chivalrous  spirit  and 
fascinating  manners.  He  had  suffered  deeply  in  the  troubles  in 
the  West  Indies,  and  was  an  invalid,  seeking  health  in  this 
country,  when  he  first  saw  Miss  Wilder,  and  at  once  became 
enamoured  with  her,  and  continued  his  assiduities  until  she 
consented  to  become  his  wife.  Their  uaion  was  delayed  for 
some  time,  in  hopes  that  he  might  recover  his  lost  health  ;  but 
in  a  measure  despairing  of  this  in  our  climate,  he  insisted  on 
being  married,  and  again  trying  his  own  warm  climate.  In 
1801,  they  were  married,  and  sailed  for  the  West  Indies.  Here 
they  found  the  government  in  an  imsettled  state,  and  they  lived, 
the  little  time  that  was  granted  them  to  live  together,  amid  con- 
fusion and  massacre.  In  a  short  time  she  was  called  upon  to 
close  the  eyes  of  her  husband ;  one  most  devotedly  attached  to 
her  ;  and  to  pay  him  the  rites  of  sepulture,  in  a  land  of  stran- 
gers to  her  and  her  brother,  who  accompanied  her.  She  at 
once  made  an  effort  to  reach  her  native  land,  and  to  leave  the 
new  friends  she  had  acquired. 

On  her  return,  she  revived  from  her  sufferings,  and  once 
more  entered  the  social  circle  to  enchant  her  friends  as  before. 
If  her  smiles  at  times  had  a  melancholy  cast,  she  never  expa- 
tiated on  her  sufferings ;  these  were  kept  in  her  own  bosom ; 
she  wished  not  to  give  others  a  pang  by  the  slightest  allusion  to 
them. 

She  lived  a  widow  for  several  years,  when  she  married  Judge 
White,  then  a  distinguished  counsellor  at  law,  in  Newburyport, 
in  the  same  state.     He  was  a  man  of  fine  classical  taste,  ot 

41 


482  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

extensive  acquirements,  and  of  exemplary  morals.  She  lived 
happily  with  him  until  the  close  of  the  year  1810,  when  she 
expired.  Her  frame  was  too  feeble  long  to  sustain  her  powers 
of  mind,  and  she  changed  worlds  without  a  sigh ;  leaving  a 
husband  and  two  daughters  to  mourn  her  loss. 

Mrs.  White  seldom  entered  the  fashicmable  world,  but  had 
around  her  many  persons  of  both  sexes,  of  the  first  education. 
It  was  a  treat  to  hear  her  talk ;  so  gentle,  so  free,  so  guileless, 
so  pure,  and  without  exaggeration,  one  might  say,  so  holy  was 
her  conversation,  that  the  lapse  of  time  was  not  observed  in  her 
company,  and  the  first  intimation  her  visitors  had  of  the  pro- 
priety of  taking  their  leave,  was  from  indications,  although  she 
struggled  to  conceal  them,  that  she  was  quite  exhausted. 

At  her  death,  the  whole  town  seemed  to  feel  as  though  some 
general  calamity  had  befallen  them,  and  mourned  her  most  sin- 
cerely. Among  other  tributes  to  her  memory,  was  one  pub- 
lished in  the  January  number  of  the  Port  Folio,  1811.  It  was 
from  the  pen  of  one  of  her  friends,  who  admired  her  talents  and 
reverenced  her  virtues.  It  was  warm  from  the  heart,  and  more 
than  he  has  said  was  believed  by  him.  He  was  a  man  of  letters 
and  of  taste,  and  a  judge  of  them  in  others.  He  has  since  paid 
the  debt  of  nature.  Stephen  Hooper  had  but  few  equals  in  the 
walks  of  literature.  Our  limits,  as  we  draw  towards  the  close  of 
our  labors,  forbid  the  insertion  of  this  elegant  tribute  to  female 
worth. 


Martha  Washington,  wife  of  General  George  Washington, 
was  born  in  Virginia,  in  the  same  year  with  her  husband,  1732, 
according  to  Weems  ;  and  probably  he  knew  as  well  as  any  of 
Washington's  biographers.  She  was  the  widow  Custis  when 
she  married  Col.  Washington,  in  1758.  She  is  mentioned  by 
Ramsay,  Marshall,  Bancroft,  and  Weems,  as  wealthy  and  beau- 
tiful, one  to  whom  Washington  had  been  long  attached;  but 
neither  of  them  give  her  maiden  name ;  and  all  but  Weems  for- 
got to  mention  the  time  of  her  birth.  But  we  believe  that  her 
maiden  name  was  Dandridge.  She  was  known,  to  those  who 
visited  Mount  Vernon,  as  a  woman  of  domestic  habits  and  kind 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  483 

feelings,  before  her  husband  had  gained  more  than  the  distinction 
of  a  good  soldier  and  gentlemanly  planter,  with  whom  one  might 
deal  with  safety,  and  be  sure  of  getting  fair  articles  at  a  fair  price. 
After  Washington  was  appointed  to  command  the  American 
armies,  and  had  repaired  to  Cambridge  to  take  the  duties  upon 
himself,  Mrs.  Washington  made  a  visit  to  the  eastern  states,  and 
spent  a  short  time  with  her  husband  in  the  camp  at  Cambridge. 
The  quarters  were  exceL^nt,  for  the  Vassals  and  other  wealthy 
tories  had  deserted  their  elegant  mansions  at  Cambridge,  which 
were  occupied  by  the  American  officers.  After  this  visit  Mrs. 
Washington  was  seldom  with  her  husband,  until  the  close  of  the 
war.  She  met  him  at  Annapolis,  in  Maryland,  when  he  resigned 
his  commission,  at  the  close  of  the  year  1783.  It  is  not  remem- 
bered that  she  came  to  New  York  with  the  president,  when  the 
federal  government  was  organized,  in  1789;  but  was  at  Phila- 
delphia during  the  first  session  after  its  removal  to  that  city.  A 
military  man  like  Washington  could  not  suffer  even  the  cour- 
tesies of  social  intercourse  to  move  on  without  a  strict  regard  to 
economical  regulations.  These  were  displayed  with  good  man- 
ners and  taste.  Mrs.  Washington,  in  her  drawing-room,  was 
of  course  obliged  to  exact  courtesies  which  she  thought  belonged 
to  the  officer,  rather  than  those  which  were  congenial  to  herself 
The  levees  in  Washington's  administration  were  certainly  more 
courtly  than  have  been  known  since.  Full  dress  was  required 
of  all  who  had  a  right  to  be  there,  but  since  that  time,  any  dress 
has  bepn  accepted  as  proper,  which  a  gentleman  chose  to  wear. 
At  table,  Mrs.  Washington  seldom  conversed  upon  politics ;  but 
attended  strictly  to  the  duties  of  the  hostess.  Foreign  ambassa- 
dors often  attempted  to  draw  her  into  a  conversation  upon  public 
affairs,  but  she  always  avoided  the  subject  with  great  propriety 
and  good  sense. 

It  was  not  in  the  saloons  of  Philadelphia,  when  heartless  thou- 
sands were  around  her,  that  Mrs.  Washington  shone  the  most 
conspicuous.  It  was  at  her  plain  mansion-house,  at  Mount  Ver- 
non, that  she  was  most  truly  great.  There  she  appeared, 
with  her  keys  at  her  side,  and  gave  directions  for  every  thing, 
so  that,  without  any  bustle  or  confusion,  the  most  splendid  dinner 


484  FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY. 

appeared  as  if  there  had  been  no  effort  in  the  whole  affair.  She 
met  her  guests  with  the  most  hospitable  feelings,  and  they  always 
departed  from  the  place  with  regret.  Her  first  husband,  John 
Custis,  died  young,  and  her  son  died  still  younger,  leaving  two 
children,  a  son  and  a  daughter.  A  great  part  of  her  time  was 
absorbed  in  assisting  in  the  education  of  these  children.  They 
weve  the  favorites  of  Mount  Vernon.  The  place  was  one  of 
general  resort  for  all  travelers ;  and  every  one,  from  every 
nation,  who  visited  this  country,  thought  that  his  American  tour 
could  not  be  finished  unless  he  had  been  at  Mount  Vernon,  and 
had  seen  the  Washington  family,  and  partaken  of  the  cakes  of 
the  domestic  hearth.  Of  course,  no  eastern  caravansary  was 
ever  more  crowded  than  the  mansion-house  at  Mount  Vernon,  in 
the  summer  months.  Washington  died  in  less  than  three  years 
after  his  retirement  from  office.  He  was  as  great,  if  not  a  greater, 
object  of  curiosity  in  retirement,  than  in  public  life;  for  it 
was  almost  miraculous  to  a  foreigner,  to  see  the  head  of  a  great 
nation  calmly  resigning  power  and  office,  and  retiring  to  a  rural 
residence  to  employ  himself  in  agricultural  pursuits.  Seeing 
was  to  them  the  only  method  of  believing ;  and  they  would  see. 
Mrs.  Washington  did  not  long  survive  her  husband;  in  eighteen 
months  she  followed  him  to  his  ^grave.  She  was  an  excellent 
parent,  a  good  wife,  an  important  member  of  society,  and  passed 
a  long  life  without  an  enemy.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  an  ample 
memoir  of  this  excellent  woman  has  not  been  written ;  but  we 
must  content  ourselves  at  present  with  a  scanty  notice.  The  few 
letters,  that  have  been  published,  that  came  from  her,  show  that 
she  wrote  with  good  taste  and  in  a  pleasant  style.  Her  ashes 
repose  in  the  same  vault  with  those  of  her  august  husband,  a 
family  tomb,  built  within  the  pale  of  the  pleasure  grounds  around 
the  house,  at  Mount  Vernon. 


Susanna  Wright.  The  following  tribute  of  respect,  was 
offered,  more  than  eighteen  years  ago,  by  one  grave  matron  to 
the  memory  of  another,  much  her  senior.  The  writer  has  long 
since  paid  the  debt  of  nature,  and  received  "  the  generous  tear 
she  gave."     In  this  sketch  there  is  no  parade  of  learning,  no 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  485 

careful  arrangement  of  facts,  but  a  plain,  straight  forward  notice 
of  her  friend.  Such  memorials  are  invaluable;  they  carry,  in. 
themselves,  the  evidence  of  their  justness,  they  are  the  true 
elements  of  biography  and  history,  and  grow  fresher  by  the 
lapse  of  time. 

"  As  it  has  always  appeared  to  me  a  duty,  which  the  living 
owe  to  each  other,  as  well  as  to  the  dead,  to  rescue  merit  from 
descending  into  immediate  oblivion,  I  have  endeavored  to  trace 
the  following  notices  of  a  lady,  who,  though  she  was  well 
known,  and  generally  esteemed,  by  the  most  eminent  characters 
in  the  state  of  Pennsylvania,  whilst  she  lived,  yet  nothing,  I 
believe,  respecting  her,  has  ever  appeared  in  print.  What 
I  now  mean  to  offer  is  from  recollection  alone ;  but  my  oppor- 
tunities for  information  were  such,  as  to  enable  me  to  give  those 
recollections  with  certainty. 

"  Susanna  Wright  was  the  daughter  of  John  Wright,  Esq.,  a 
very  intelligent  and  upright  man,  and  one  of  the  first  settlers  in 
Lancaster  county ;  she  came  over  with  her  parents  from  War- 
rington, in  Great  Britain,  in  1714,  being  then  about  seventeen. 
She  had  received  a  good  education,  and  having  an  excellent 
understanding,  she  assiduously  cultivated  her  fine  talents,  not- 
withstanding the  disadvantages  of  her  situation.  Her  parents 
first  settled  at  Chester,  but  a  short  time  afterwards  removed  to 
the  banks  of  the  Susquehannah,  then  a  most  remote  frontier 
settlement,  in  the  midst  of  Indians,  subject  to  all  the  inconveni- 
ences, labors,  privations,  and  dangers,  of  an  infant  establishment. 
Here  she  exerted  herself  continually  for  the  good  of  her  family 
and  the  benefit  of  her  neighbors;  nor  did  she  ever  quit  this 
retirement,  for  the  more  improved  society  of  Philadelphia,  but 
twice,  when  the  danger  of  their  situation,  from  an  Indian  war, 
rendered  this  removal  necessary  for  their  safety.  She  never 
married ;  but  after  the  death  of  her  father,  became  the  head  of 
her  own  family,  who  looked  up  to  her  for  advice  and  direction 
as  to  a  parent ;  for  her  heart  was  replete  with  every  kind  affection, 
and  with  all  the  social  virtues.  She  was  well  acquainted  with 
books,  had  an  excellent  memory,  as  well  as  a  most  clear  and 

comprehensive  judgment ;   she  spoke  and  wrote  the  French 

41* 


486  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

language  with  great  ease  and  fluency ;  she  had  also  a  knowledge 
of  Latin,  and  of  Italian,  and  had  made  considerable  attainments 
in  many  of  the  sciences.  Her  letters,  written  to  her  friends, 
were  deservedly  esteemed  for  their  ingenuity.  She  corresponded 
with  James  Logan,  Isaac  Norris,  and  many  other  celebrated 
characters  of  that  period ;  and  so  great  was  the  esteem  in  which 
she  was  held  by  her  neighbors,  for  integrity  and  judgment,  that 
disputes  of  considerable  interest  were  frequently  left  to  her  sole 
arbitration,  by  the  parties  concerned.  Her  advice  was  often 
desired  on  occasions  of  importance,  respecting  the  settlement  of 
estates,  and  she  was  often  resorted  to  as  a  physician  by  her 
neighborhood.  The  care  and  management  of  a  large  family, 
and  of  a  profitable  establishment,  frequently  devolved  entirely 
upon  her ;  and  she  appeared  to  be  so  constantly  occupied  with 
the  employments  usual  to  her  sex  and  station,  that  it  was  sur- 
prising how  she  found  time  for  that  acquaintance  with  polite 
literature,  which  her  conversation  displayed,  when  she  met  with 
persons  capable  of  appreciating  it. 

"  She  took  great  deiight  in  domestic  manufacture,  and  had 
constantly  much  of  it  produced  in  her  family.  For  many  years 
she  attended  to  the  rearing  of  silk  worms,  and  with  the  silk 
which  she  reeled  and  prepared  herself,  made  many  articles  both 
of  beauty  and  utility,  dying  the  silk  of  various  colors,  with 
indigenious  materials.  She  had  at  one  time  upwards  of  sixty 
yards  of  excellent  mantua  returned  to  her  from  Great  Britain, 
where  she  had  sent  the  raw  silk  to  be  manufactured.  She  some- 
times amused  herself  with  her  pencil,  and  with  little  works  of 
fancy  ;  but  it  was  in  the  productions  of  her  pen  that  she  most 
excelled.  They  were  deservedly  admired  whilst  she  lived,  and 
would  abundantly  satisfy  the  world  of  her  merit,  could  they  now 
be  produced ;  but  as  she  wrote  not  for  fame,  she  never  kept 
copies,  and  it  is  to  be  feared  but  little  is  at  this  time  recoverable. 
She  appears  to  have  been  without  vanity,  and  above  affectation. 

"I  had  the  pleasure,  when  very  young,  of  seeing  her,  and  can 
remember  something  of  the  vivacity  and  spirit  of  her  conversa- 
tion, which  I  have  since  heard  some  of  the  best  judges  of  such 
merit  affirm  they  had  seldom  known  to  be  equalled. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  487 

"  She  lived  to  be  upwards  of  eighty,  preserving  her  senses  and 
faculties.  She  had  been  educated  in  the  religious  society  of 
Friends,  and  often  in  her  latter  years  professed,  that  she  saw  the 
vanity  of  all  attainments  that  had  not  for  their  object  the  glory 
of  God,  and  the  good  of  mankind.  She  died  a  most  humble, 
pious,  sincere  Christian. 

"  In  her  person  she  was  small,  and  had  never  been  handsome, 
but  had  a  penetrating,  sensible  countenance,  and  was  truly  polite 
and  courteous  in  her  address  and  behavior.  Her  brother,  James 
Wright,  was  for  many  years  a  representative  for  Lancaster 
county,  in  the  assembly  of  Pennsylvania,  and  was  deservedly 
esteemed  by  his  fellow  citizens.  His  descendants  still  possess 
the  estate  where  his  ancestors  settled,  upon  which  they  have 
recently  founded  the  flourishing  town  of  Columbia." 


Mary  Washington,  the  mother  of  the  patriot  and  soldier, 
George  Washington,  has,  until  lately,  been  but  little  known  to 
the  great  mass  of  the  American  people.  The  public  are  indebted 
to  George  W.  P.  Custis,  Esquire,  grand-son  of  Mrs.  Washing- 
ton, the  wife  of  General  George  Washington,  of  Virginia,  for  this 
sketch.  Mr.  Custis  certainly  had  the  best  opportunities  of  any 
one  to  become  acquainted  with  the  merits  of  this  rare  woman. 

"  Mrs.  Washington  was  descended  from  the  very  respectable 
family  of  Ball,  who  settled  as  English  colonists,  on  the  banks 
of  the  Potomac.  Bred  in  those  domestic  and  independent  habits, 
which  graced  the  Virginia  matrons  in  the  old  days  of  Vkginia, 
this  lady,  by  the  death  of  her  husband,  became  involved  in  the 
cares  of  a  young  family,  at  a  period,  when  those  cares  seem 
more  especially  to  claim  the  aid  and  control  of  the  stronger  sex. 
It  was  left  for  this  eminent  woman,  by  a  method  the  most  rare, 
by  an  education  and  discipline  the  most  peculiar  and  imposing, 
to  form  in  the  youth-time  of  her  son,  those  great  and  essential 
qualities,  which  gave  lustre  to  the  glories  of  his  after  life.  If 
the  school  savored  the  more  of  the  Spartan  than  the  Persian 
character,  it  was  a  fitter  school  to  form  a  hero,  destined  to  be  the 
ornament  of  the  age  in  which  he  flourished,  and  a  standard  of 
excellence  for  ages  yet  to  come. 


488  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

"  It  was  remarked  by  the  ancients,  that  the  mother  always 
gave  the  tone  to  the  character  of  the  child ;  and  we  may  be  per- 
mitted to  say,  that  since  the  days  of  old  renown,  a  mother  has 
not  lived  better  fitted  to  give  the  tone  and  character  of  real  great- 
ness to  her  child,  than  she  whose  remarkable  life  and  actions  this 
reminiscence  will  endeavor  to  illustrate. 

"  At  the  time  of  his  father's  death,  George  Washington  was 
only  twelve  years  of  age.  He  has  been  heard  to  say,  that  he 
knew  little  of  his  father,  except  the  remembrance  of  his  person, 
and  of  his  parental  fondness.  To  his  mother's  forming  care  he 
himself  ascribed  the  origin  of  his  fortunes  and  his  fame. 

"  The  home  of  Mrs.  Washington,  of  which  she  was  always 
mistress,  was  a  pattern  of  order.  There  the  levity  and  indul- 
gence common  to  youth  was  tempered  by  a  deference  and  well 
regulated  restraint,  which,  while  it  neither  suppressed  nor  con- 
demned any  rational  enjoyment  usual  in  the  spring-time  of  life, 
prescribed  those  enjoyments  within  the  bonnds  of  moderation 
and  propriety.  Thus  the  chief  was  taught  the  duty  of  obedience, 
which  prepared  him  to  command.  Still  the  mother  held  in  re- 
serve an  authority  which  never  departed  from  her,  not  when  her 
son  had  become  the  most  illustrious  of  men.  It  seemed  to  say, 
'  I  am  your  mother,  the  being  who  gave  you  life,  the  guide  who 
directed  your  steps  when  they  needed  a  guardian ;  my  maternal 
affection  drew  forth  jj-our  love ;  my  authority  constrained  your 
spirit ;  whatever  may  be  your  success  or  your  renown,  next  to 
your  God,  your  reverence  is  due  to  me.'  Nor  did  the  chief  dis- 
sent from  these  truths ;  but  to  the  last  moments  of  his  venerable 
parent,  yielded  to  her  will  the  most  dutiful  and  implicit  obedience, 
and  felt  for  her  person  and  character  the  highest  respect,  and  the 
most  enthusiastic  attachment.  The  late  Laurence  Washington, 
Esq.,  of  Chotank,  one  of  the  associates  of  the  jilvenile  years  of 
the  chief,  and  remembered  by  him  in  his  will,  thus  describes  the 
home  of  the  mother  : 

'"I  was  often  there  with  George,  his  playmate,  schoolmate,  and 
young  man's  companion.  Of  the  mother  I  was  ten  times  more 
afraid  than  I  ever  was  of  my  own  parents ;  she  awed  me  in  the 
midst  of  her  kindness,  for  she  was  indeed  truly  kind.  And  even 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  489 

now,  when  time  has  whitened  my  locks,  and  I  am  the  grand- 
parent of  a  second  generation,  I  could  not  behold  that  majestic 
woman  without  feelings  it  is  impossible  to  describe.  Whoever 
has  seen  that  awe-inspiring  air  and  manner,  so  characteristic  in 
the  father  of  his  country,  will  remember  the  matron  as  she  ap- 
peared, when  the  presiding  genius  of  her  well-ordered  house- 
hold, commanding  and  being  obeyed.' 

"  Such  were  the  domestic  influences  under  which  the  mind 
of  Washington  was  formed ;  and  that  he  not  only  profited  by, 
but  fully  appreciated  their  excellence  and  the  character  of  his 
mother,  his  behavior  towards  her  at  all  times  testified.  Upon 
his  appointment  to  the  command  in  chief  of  the  American  ar- 
mies, previously  to  his  joining  the  forces  at  Cambridge,  he  re- 
moved his  mother  from  her  country  residence  to  the  village  of 
Fredericksburg,  a  situation  remote  from  danger,  and  contiguous 
to  her  friends  and  relatives. 

"It  was  there  the  matron  remained,  during  nearly  the  whole 
of  the  trying  period  of  the  revolution.  Directly  in  the  way  of 
the  news,  as  it  passed  from  north  to  south ;  one  courier  would 
bring  intelligence  of  success  to  our  arms,  another,  '  swiftly 
coursing  at  his  heels,'  the  saddening  reverse  of  disaster  and 
defeat.  While  thus  ebbed  and  flowed  the  fortunes  of  our  cause, 
the  mother,  trusting  to  the  wisdom  and  protection  of  divine 
providence,  preserved  the  even  tenor  of  her  life ;  affording  an 
example  to  those  matrons  whose  sons  were  alike  engaged  in  the 
arduous  contest ;  and  showing  that  unavailing  anxieties,  however 
belonging  to  nature,  were  unworthy  of  mothers,  whose  sons  were 
combating  for  the  inestimable  rights  of  man  and  the  freedom  and 
happiness  of  the  world. 

"  When  the  comforting  and  glorious  intelligence  arrived,  of 
the  passage  of  the  Delaware,  (December,  '76,)  an  event  which 
restored  our  hopes  from  the  very  brink  of  despair,  a  number  of 
her  friends  waited  upon  the  mother,  with  congratulations.  She 
received  them  with  calmness ;  observed  that  it  was  most  plea- 
surable news,  and  that  George  appeared  to  ha^^e  deserved  well 
of  his  country  for  such  signal  services.  And  continued,  in  reply 
to  the  gratulating  patriots,  (most  of  whom  held  letters  in  their 


490  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

hands,  from  which  they  read  extracts,)  '  But,  my  good  sirs,  here 
is  to  much  flattery — still  George  will  not  forget  the  lessons  1 
early  taught  him — he  will  not  forget  himself,  though  he  is  the 
subject  of  so  much  praise.' 

"  Here  let  me  remark  upon  the  absurdity  of  an  idea  which, 
from  some  strange  cause  or  other,  has  been  suggested,  though 
certainly  never  believed,  that  the  mother  was  disposed  to  favor 
the  royal  cause.  Such  a  surmise  has  not  the  slightest  foundation 
in  truth.  Like  many  others,  whose  days  of  enthusiasm  were  in 
the  wane,  the  lady  doubted  the  prospects  of  success  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  war ;  and  long  during  its  continuance  feared  that  our 
means  would  be  found  inadequate  to  a  successful  contest  with  so 
formidable  a  power  as  Britain ;  and  our  soldiers,  brave,  but  un- 
disciplined, and  ill  provided,  be  unequal  to  cope  with  the  veteran 
arid  well  appointed  troops  of  the  king.  Doubts  like  these  were 
by  no  means  confined  to  a  female ;  but  were  both  entertained 
and  expressed  by  the  stanchest  of  patriots,  and  most  determined 
of  men.  But  when  the  mother,  who  had  been  removed  to  the 
county  of  Frederick,  on  the  invasion  of  Virginia,  in  1781,  was  in- 
formed, by  express,  of  the  surrender  of  Cornvvallis,  she  raised  her 
hands  to  heaven,  and  exclaimed,  '  Thank  God,  war  will  now  be 
ended,  and  peace,  independence,  and  happiness  bless  our  country.' 

"  During  the  war,  and  indeed,  during  her  useful  life,  up  to  the 
advanced  age  of  eighty -two,  until  within  three  years  of  her  death, 
(when  an  afflictive  disease  prevented  exertion,)  the  mother  set  a 
most  valuable  example,  in  the  management  of  her  domestic  con- 
cerns, carrying  her  own  keys,  bustling  in  her  household  affairs, 
providing  for  her  family,  and  living  and  moving  in  all  the  pride 
of  independence.  She  was  not  actuated  by  that  ambition  for 
show  which  pervades  lesser  minds ;  and  the  peculiar  plainness 
and  dignity  of  her  manners  became  in  no  wise  altered,  when  the 
sun  of  glory  arose  upon  her  house.  There  are  some  of  the  aged 
inhabitants  of  Fredericksburg,  who  well  remember  the  matron, 
as  seated  in  an  old-fashioned  open  chaise,  she  was  in  the  habit 
of  visiting,  almost  daily,  her  little  farm  in  the  vicinity  of  the  town. 
When  there,  she  would  ride  about  her  fields,  giving  her  orders, 
and  seeing  that  they  Vv^ere  obeyed. 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  491 

"  Her  great  industry,  with  the  well  regulated  economy  of  all 
her  concerns,  enabled  the  matron  to  dispense  considerable  chari- 
ties to  the  poor,  although  her  own  circumstances  were  always 
far  from  rich.  All  manner  of  domestic  economies,  so  useful  in 
those  times  of  privation  and  trouble,  met  her  zealous  attention ; 
while  every  thing  about  her  household  bore  marks  of  her  care 
and  management,  and  very  many  things  the  impress  of  her  own 
hands.  In  a  very  humble  dwelling,  and  suffering  under  an  ex- 
cruciating disease,  (cancer  of  the  breast,)  thus  lived  this  mother 
of  the  first  of  men,  preserving  unchanged,  her  peculiar  nobleness 
and  independence  of  character. 

"  She  was  continually  visited  and  solaced  by  her  children,  and 
numerous  grand-children,  particularly  by  her  daughter,  Mrs. 
Lewis.  To  the  repeated  and  earnest  solicitations  of  this  lady, 
that  she  would  remove  to  her  house,  and  pass  the  remainder  of 
her  days,  to  the  pressing  entreaties  of  her  son,  that  she  would 
make  Mount  Vernon  the  home  of  her  age,  the  matron  replied, 
*  I  thank  you  for  your  affectionate  and  dutiful  offers,  but  my  wants 
are  few  in  this  world,  and  I  feel  perfectly  competent  to  take 
care  of  myself  Her  son  in  law.  Col.  Fielding  Lewis,  proposed 
to  relieve  her  of  the  direction  of  her  affairs;  she  observed,  '  Do 
you,  Fielding,  keep  my  books  in  order,  for  your  eye-sight  is 
better  than  mine ;  but  leave  the  executive  management  to  me.' 

"  One  weakness  alone  attached  to  this  lofty-minded  and  in- 
trepid woman  ;  and  that  proceeded  from  a  most  affecting  cause. 
She  was  afraid  of  lightning.  In  early  life  she  had  a  female 
friend  killed  by  her  side,  while  sitting  at  table ;  the  knife  and 
fork,  in  the  hands  of  the  unfortunate  girl,  were  melted  by  the 
electric  fluid.  The  matron  never  recovered  from  the  fright  and 
shock  occasioned  by  this  distressing  accident.  On  the  approach 
of  a  thunder  cloud  she  would  retire  to  her  chamber,  and  not 
leave  it  again  till  the  storm  had  passed  away. 

"  She  was  always  pious,  but  in  her  latter  days  her  devotions 
were  performed  in  private.  She  was  in  the  habit  of  repairing 
every  day  to  a  secluded  spot,  formed  by  rocks  and  trees,  near  her 
dwelling,  where,  abstracted  from  the  world  and  worldly  things, 
she  communed  with  her  Creator,  in  humiliation  and  prayer. 


492  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

"  After  an  absence  of  nearly  seven  years,  it  was  at  length,  on 
the  return  of  the  combined  armies  from  Yorktown,  permitted  to 
the  mother,  again  to  see  and  embrace  her  illustrious  son.  So 
soon  as  he  had  dismounted,  in  the  midst  of  a  numerous  and 
brilliant  suite,  he  sent  to  apprise  her  of  his  arrival,  and  to  know 
when  it  would  be  her  pleasure  to  receive  him.  And  now  mark 
the  force  of  early  education  and  habits,  and  the  superiority  of 
the  Spartan  over  the  Persian  school,  in  this  interview  of  the 
great  Washington  with  his  admirable  parent  and  instructor. 
No  pageantry  of  war  proclaimed  his  coming,  no  trumpets 
sounded,  no  banners  waved.  Alone  and  on  foot,  the  marshal 
of  France,  the  general  in  chief  of  the  combined  armies  of  France 
and  America,  the  deliverer  of  his  country,  the  hero  of  the  age, 
repaired  to  pay  his  humble  duty  to  her  whom  he  venerated  as 
the  author  of  his  being,  the  founder  of  his  fortune  and  his  fame. 
For  full  well  he  knew  that  the  matron  would  not  be  moved  by 
all  the  pride  that  glory  ever  gave,  nor  by  all  the  '  pomp  and 
circumstance'  of  power. 

"  The  lady  was  alone,  her  aged  hands  employed  in  the  works 
of  domestic  industry,  when  the  good  news  was  announced,  and 
it  was  further  told  that  the  victor  chief  was  in  waiting  at  the 
threshold.  She  welcomed  him  with  a  warm  embrace,  and  by 
the  well  remembered  and  endearing  name  of  his  childhood ;  in- 
quiring as  to  his  health,  she  remarked  the  lines  which  mighty 
cares  and  many  trials  had  made  on  his  manly  countenance, 
spoke  much  of  old  times  and  old  friends,  but  of  his  glory — not 
one  word ! 

"  Meantime,  in  the  village  of  Fredericksburg,  all  was  joy  and 
revelry ;  the  town  was  crowded  with  the  officers  of  the  French 
and  American  armies,  and  with  gentlemen  from  all  the  country 
around,  who  hastened  to  welcome  the  conquerors  of  Cornwallis. 
The  citizens  made  arrangements  for  a  splendid  ball,  to  which 
the  mother  of  Washington  was  specially  invited.  She  observed, 
that  although  her  dancing  days  were  pretty  well  over,  she 
should  feel  happy  in  contributing  to  the  general  festivity,  and 
consented  to  attend. 

"  The  foreign  officers  were  anxious  to  see  the  mother  of  their    1 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  493 

Chief.  They  had  heard  indistinct  rumors  respecting  her  remark- 
able life  and  character,  but  forming  their  judgments  from  Euro- 
pean examples,  they  were  prepared  to  expect  in  the  mother  that 
glare  and  show,  which  would  have  been  attached  to  the  parents 
of  the  great  in  the  old  world.  How  were  they  surprised,  when 
the  matron,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  her  son,  entered  the  room ! 
She  was  arrayed  in  the  very  plain,  yet  becoming  garb  worn  by 
the  Virginia  lady  of  the  olden  time.  Her  address,  always  digni- 
fied and  imposing,  was  courteous,  though  reserved.  She  received 
the  complimentary  attentions,  which  were  profusely  paid  her, 
without  evincing  the  slightest  elevation,  and  at  an  early  hour, 
wishing  the  company  much  enjoyment  of  their  pleasures,  ob- 
served that  it  was  time  for  old  people  to  be  at  home,  retired. 

"  The  foreign  officers  were  amazed  to  behold  one  whom  so 
many  causes  contributed  to  elevate,  persevering  the  even  tenor 
of  her  life,  while  such  a  blaze  of  glory  shone  upon  her  name 
and  offspring.  The  European  world  furnished  no  examples  of 
such  magnanimity.  Names  of  ancient  lore  were  heard  to  escape 
from  their  lips,  and  they  observed,  that  '  if  such  were  the  ma- 
trons of  America,  it  was  not  wonderful  the  sons  were  illustrious.' 

"  It  was  on  this  festive  occasion  that  General  Washington 
danced  a  minuet  with  Mrs.  Willis.  It  closed  his  dancing  days. 
The  minuet  was  much  in  vogue  at  that  period,  and  was  pecu- 
liary  calculated  for  the  display  of  the  splendid  figure  of  the  chief, 
and  his  natural  grace  and  elegance  of  air  and  manner.  The 
gallant  Frenchmen  who  were  present,  of  which  fine  people  it 
may  be  said,  that  dancing  forms  one  of  the  elements  of  their 
existence,  so  much  admired  the  American  performance,  as  to 
admit  that  a  Parisian  education  could  not  have  improved  it.  As 
the  evening  advanced,  the  commander  in  chief,  yielding  to  the 
gaiety  of  the  scene,  went  down  some  dozen  couple,  in  the  con- 
tra-dance,  with  great  spirit  and  satisfaction. 

"  The  Marquis  de  Lafayette  repaired  to  Fredericksburg,  pre- 
vious to  his  departure  for  Europe,  in  \.he  fall  of  1784,  to  pay  his 
parting  respects  to  the  mother,  and  to  ask  her  blessing. 

"  Conducted  by  one  of  her  grandsons,  he  approached  the 
house  when  the  young  gentleman  observed,  '  There,  sir,  is  my 

42 


494  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

grandmother.'  Lafayette  beheld,  working  in  the  garden,  clad 
in  domestic  made  clothes,  and  her  gray  head  covered  in  a 
plain  straw  hat,  the  mother  of  'his  hero!'  The  lady  saluted 
him  kindly,  observing — '  Ah,  marquis  !  you  see  an  old  woman 
— but  come,  I  can  make  you  welcome  to  my  poor  dwelling, 
without  the  parade  of  changing  my  dress.' 

"  The  marquis  spoke  of  the  happy  effects  of  the  revolution, 
and  the  goodly  prospect  which  opened  upon  independent  Ame- 
rica, stated  his  speedy  departure  for  his  native  land,  paid  the 
tribute  of  his  heart,  his  love  and  admiration  of  her  illustrious 
son,  and  concluded  by  asking  her  blessing.  She  blessed  him, 
and  to  the  encomiums  which  he  had  lavished  upon  his  hero 
and  paternal  chief,  the  matron  replied  in  these  words :  '  I  am 
not  surprised  at  Vv^hat  George  has  done,  for  he  was  always  a 
very  good  boy.' 

•*  In  her  person,  Mrs.  Washington  was  of  the  middle  size,  and 
finely  formed  ;  her  features  pleasing,  yet  strongly  marked.  It 
is  not  the  happiness  of  the  writer  to  remember  her,  having  only 
seen  her  with  infant  eyes.  The  sister  of  the  chief  he  perfectly 
well  remembers.  She  was  a  most  majestic  woman,  and  so 
strikingly  like  the  brother,  that  it  was  a  matter  of  frolic  to  throw 
a  cloak  around  her  and  place  a  military  hat  upon  her  head,  and 
such  was  the  perfect  resemblance,  that,  had  she  appeared  on  her 
brother's  steed,  battalions  would  have  presented  arms,  and  senates 
risen  to  do  homage  to  the  chief 

"  In  her  latter  days,  the  mother  often  spoke  of  her  own  good 
hoy,  of  the  merits  of  his  early  life,  of  his  love  and  dutifulness  to 
herself;  but  of  the  deliverer  of  his  country,  the  chief  magistrate 
of  the  great  republic,  she  never  spoke.  Call  you  this  insensi- 
bility? or  want  of  ambition?  Oh,  no!  her  ambition  had  been 
gratified  to  overflowing.  She  had  taught  him  to  be  good;  that 
he  became  great  when  the  opportunity  presented,  was  a  conse- 
quence, not  a  cause. 

"  Thus  lived  and  died  this  distinguished  woman.  Had  she 
been  a  Roman  dame,  statues  would  have  been  erected  to  her 
memory  in  the  capitol,  and  we  should  have  read  in  classic  pages 
the  story  of  her  virtues, 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  495 

"  When  another  century  shall  have  elapsed,  and  the  nations 
of  the  earth,  as  well  as  our  descendants,  shall  have  learned  the 
true  value  of  liberty,  the  name  of  our  hero  will  gather  a  glory 
it  has  never  yet  been  invested  with ;  and  then  will  youth  and 
age,  maid  and  matron,  aged  and  bearded  men,  with  pilgrim  step, 
repair  to  the  now  neglected  grave  of  the  mother  of  Washington." 

A  splendid  monument  has  been  recently  erected  to  her  me- 
mory. On  the  seventh  of  May,  1833,  the  president  of  the 
United  States,  Andrew  Jackson,  having  been  invited  by  the 
Monument  Committee  of  Virginia,  chosen  for  this  purpose,  to 
attend  at  the  laying  of  the  corner  stone,  at  Fredericksburgh,  the 
place  where  the  ashes  of  Mrs.  Washington  repose,  repaired, 
with  the  heads  of  departments,  and  a  great  concourse  of  people, 
to  that  city,  where  they  were  courteously  received.  One  of  the 
committee,  Mr.  Basset,  addressed  the  president  of  the  United 
States  in  a  splendid  style,  to  which  the  president  made  the  fol- 
lowing elegant  reply. 

"  Sir — to  you,  and  to  your  colleagues  of  the  Monument  Com- 
mittee, I  return  my  acknowledgments  for  the  kind  sentiments  you 
have  expressed  towards  me,  and  for  the  flattering  terms  in  which 
they  have  been  conveyed.  I  cannot  but  feel  that  I  am  indebted  to 
your  partiality,  and  not  to  any  services  of  my  own,  for  the  warm- 
hearted reception  you  have  given  me.  On  this  occasion,  as  well  as 
many  others,  in  the  course  of  a  life  now  drawing  towards  its  close, 
I  have  found  the  confidence  and  attachment  of  my  countrymen 
as  far  beyond  my  merits  as  my  expectations. 

"  We  are  assembled,  fellow-citizens,  to  witness  and  to  assist  in 
an  interesting  ceremony.  More  than  a  century  has  passed  away 
since  she,  to  whom  this  tribute  of  respect  is  about  to  be  paid, 
entered  upon  the  active  scenes  of  life.  A  century,  fertile  in 
wonderful  events,  and  in  distinguished  men,  who  have  participa- 
ted in  them.  Of  these  events  our  country  has  furnished  her  full 
share;  and  of  these  distinguished  men,  she  has  produced  a 
Washington.  If  he  was  'first  in  war,  first  in  peace,  and  first 
in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen,*  we  may  say,  without  the  im- 
putation of  national  vanity,  that,  if  not  the  first,  he  was  in  the 
very  first  rank  of  those,  too  few,  indeed,  upon  whose  career 


496  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

mankind  can  look  back  without  regret,  and  whose  memory  and 
example  will  furnish  themes  of  eulogy  for  the  patriot,  wherever 
free  institutions  are  honored  and  maintained. 

"  His  was  no  false  glory,  deriving  its  lustre  from  the  glare  of 
splendid  and  destructive  actions,  commencing  in  professions  of 
attachment  to  his  country,  and  terminating  in  the  subversion  of 
her  freedom.  Far  different  is  the  radinance  which  surrounds 
his  name  and  fame.  It  shines  mildly  and  equally,  and  guides 
the  philanthropist  and  citizen  in  the  path  of  duty ;  and  it  will 
guide  them  long  after  those  false  lights,  which  have  attracted 
too  much  attention,  shall  have  been  extinguished  in  darkness. 

"  In  the  grave  before  us  lie  the  remains  of  his  mother.  Long 
has  it  been  unmarked  by  any  monumental  tablet,  but  not  un- 
honored.  You  have  undertaken  the  pious  duty  of  erecting  a 
column  to  her  memory,  and  of  inscribing  upon  it  the  simple, 
but  affecting  words,  '  Mary,  the  mother  of  Washington.'  No 
eulogy  could  be  higher,  and  it  appeals  to  the  heart  of  every 
American. 

"  These  memorials  of  affection  and  gratitude  are  consecrated 
by  the  practice  of  all  ages  and  nations.  They  are  tributes  of 
respect  to  the  dead,  but  they  convey  practical  lessons  of  virtue 
and  wisdom  to  the  living.  The  mother  and  son  are  beyond  the 
reach  of  human  applause ;  but  the  bright  example  of  parental 
and  filial  excellence,  which  their  conduct  furnishes,  cannot  but 
produce  the  most  salutary  effects  upon  our  countrymen.  Let 
their  example  be  before  us,  from  the  first  lesson  which  is  taught 
the  child,  till  the  mother's  duties  yield  to  the  course  of  prepa- 
ration and  action  which  nature  prescribes  for  him. 

•'  The  address  which  we  have  heard,  portrays  in  just  colors 
this  most  estimable  woman.  Tradition  says,  that  the  character 
of  Washington  was  aided  and  strengthened,  if  not  formed,  by 
the  care  and  precepts  of  his  mother.  She  was  remarkable  for 
the  vigor  of  her  intellect  and  the  firmness  of  her  resolution. 
Left  in  early  life  the  sole  parent  of  a  numerous  family,  she 
devoted  herself,  with  exemplary  fidelity,  to  the  task  of  guiding 
and  educating  them.  With  limited  resources  she  was  able, 
by  care  and  economy,  to  provide  for  them,  and  to  ensure  them 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY.  497 

a  respectable  entrance  upon  the  duties  of  life.  A  firm  believer 
in  the  sacred  truths  of  religion,  she  taught  its  principles  to  hei 
children,  and  inculcated  an  early  obedience  to  its  injunctions. 
It  is  said,  by  those  who  knew  her  intimately,  that  she  acquired, 
and  maintained  a  wonderful  ascendancy  over  those  around  her. 
This  true  characteristic  of  genius  attended  her  through  life,  and 
even  in  its  decline ;  after  her  son  had  led  his  country  to  indepen- 
dence, and  had  been  called  to  preside  over  her  councils,  he  ap- 
proached her  with  the  same  reverence  she  taught  him  to  exhibit 
in  early  youth.  This  course  of  maternal  discipline,  no  doubt, 
restained  the  natural  ardor  of  his  temperament,  and  conferred 
upon  him  that  power  of  self-command  which  was  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  traits  of  his  character. 

"  In  tracing  the  few  recollections  which  can  be  gathered,  of 
her  principles  and  conduct,  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  the  convic- 
tion, that  these  were  closely  interwoven  with  the  destiny  of  her 
son.  The  great  points  of  his  character  are  before  the  world. 
He  who  runs  may  read  them  in  his  whole  career,  as  a  citizen, 
a  soldier,  a  magistrate.  He  possessed  an  unerring  judgment, 
if  that  term  can  be  applied  to  human  nature ;  great  probity  of 
purpose,  high  moral  principles,  perfect  self-possession,  untiring 
application,  an  inquiring  mind,  seeking  information  from  every 
quarter,  and  arriving  at  its  conclusions  with  a  full  knowledge  of 
the  subject ;  and  he  added  to  these  an  inflexibility  of  resolution, 
which  nothing  could  change  but  a  conviction  of  error.  Look 
back  at  the  life  and  conduct  of  his  mother,  and  at  her  domestic 
government,  as  they  have  this  day  been  delineated  by  the  chair- 
man of  the  Monumental  Committee,  and  as  they  were  known 
to  her  contemporaries,  and  have  been  described  by  them,  and 
they  will  be  found  admirably  adapted  to  form  and  develope  the 
elements  of  such  a  character.  The  power  of  greatness  was 
there ;  but  had  it  not  been  guided  and  directed  by  maternal  soli- 
citude and  judgment,  its  possessor,  instead  of  presenting  to  the 
world  examples  of  virtue,  patriotism,  and  wisdom,  which  will  be 
precious  in  all  succeeding  ages,  might  have  added  to  the  num- 
ber of  those  master  spirits,  whose  fame  rests  upon  the  faculties 

they  have  abused,  and  the  .injuries  they  have  committed. 

49*       ' 


498  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

"  How  important  to  the  females  of  our  country  are  these  re- 
miniscences of  the  early  life  of  Washington,  and  of  the  mater- 
nal care  of  her  upon  whom  its  future  course  depended.  Prin- 
ciples, less  firm  and  just;  an  affection,  less  regulated  by  dis- 
cretion, might  have  changed  the  character  of  the  son,  and  with 
it  the  destinies  of  the  nation.  We  have  reason  to  be  proud  of 
the  virtue  and  intelligence  of  our  females.  As  mothers  and  sis- 
ters, as  wives  and  daughters,  their  duties  are  performed  with 
exemplary  fidelity.  They,  no  doubt,  realize  the  great  impor- 
tance of  the  maternal  character,  and  the  powerful  influence  it 
must  exert  upon  the  American  youth,  Happy  is  it  for  them 
and  our  country  that  they  have  before  them  this  illustrious  ex- 
ample of  maternal  devotion,  and  this  bright  reward  of  filial  suc- 
cess. The  mother  of  a  family,  who  lives  to  vi'itness  the  virtues 
of  her  children  and  their  advancement  in  life,  and  who  is  known 
and  honored  because  they  are  known  and  honored,  should  have 
no  other  wish,  on  this  side  the  grave,  to  gratify.  The  seeds  of 
virtue  and  vice  are  early  sown,  and  we  may  often  anticipate  the 
harvest  that  will  be  gathered.  Changes,  no  doubt,  occur,  but 
let  no  one  place  his  hope  upon  these.  Impressions  made  in  in- 
fancy, if  not  indelible,  are  effaced  with  difficulty  and  renewed 
with  facility ;  and  upon  the  mother,  therefore,  must  frequently, 
if  not  generally,  depend  the  fate  of  the  son, 

"  Fellow-citizens — This  district  of  country  gave  birth  to 
Washington.  The  ancient  commonwealth,  within  whose  bor- 
ders we  are  assembled  from  every  portion  of  this  happy  and 
flourishing  Union,  renowned  as  she  is  for  her  institutions,  for 
her  devotion  to  the  cause  of  freedom,  and  for  her  services  and 
sacrifices  to  promote  it,  and  for  the  eminent  men  she  has  sent 
forth  to  aid  our  country  with  heart  and  hand,  in  peace  and  war, 
presents  a  claim  still  stronger  than  these  upon  the  gratitude  of 
her  sister  states  in  the  birth  and  life  of  Washington.  Most  of 
you,  my  friends,  must  speak  of  him  from  report.  It  is  to  me  a 
source  of  high  gratification  that  I  can  speak  of  him  from  per- 
sonal knowledge  and  observation.  Called,  by  the  partiality  of 
my  countryman,  to  the  high  station,  once  so  ably  filled  by  him, 
and  feeling,   that  in  all  but  a  desire  to  serve  you,  I  am  un 


FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY,  499 

worthy  to  occupy  his  seat ;  but,  sensible  that  to  this  position  I 
owe  the  honor  of  an  invitation  to  unite  with  you  in  this  work 
of  affection  and  gratitude,  I  am  unwilling  the  opportunity  should 
pass  away  without  bearing  my  testimony  to  his  virtues  and  ser- 
vices. I  do  this  in  justice  to  my  own  feelings,  being  well  aware 
that  his  fame  needs  no  feeble  aid  from  me. 

"  The  living  witnesses  of  his  public  and  private  life  will  soon 
follow  him  to  the  tomb.  Already  a  second  and  a  third  genera- 
tion are  upon  the  theatre  of  action,  and  the  men  and  the  events 
of  the  revolution,  and  of  the  interesting  period  between  it 
and  the  firm  establishment  of  the  present  constitution,  must 
ere  long  live  only  in  the  pages  of  history.  I  witnessed  the 
public  conduct  and  the  private  virtues  of  Washington,  and  I 
saw  and  participated  in  the  confidence  which  he  inspired, 
when  probably  the  stability  of  our  institutions  depended  upon 
his  personal  influence.  Many  years  have  passed  over  me 
since,  but  they  have  increased  instead  of  diminishing  my  reve- 
rence for  his  character,  and  my  confidence  in  his  principles. 
May  He  who  holds  in  his  hands  the  fate  of  nations,  impress  us 
all  with  the  conviction  of  its  truth  and  importance,  and  teach 
us  to  regard  its  lessons  as  the  precious  legacy  he  has  be- 
queathed us.  And  if,  in  the  instability  of  human  affairs,  our 
beloved  country  should  ever  be  exposed  to  the  disasters  which 
have  overwhelmed  the  other  republics  that  have  preceded  us  in 
the  world,  may  providence,  when  it  suffers  the  hour  of  trial 
to  come,  raise  up  a  Washington  to  guide  us  in  averting  danger. 

"Fellow-citizens — At  your  request,  and  in  your  name,  I  now 
deposit  this  plate  in  the  sjjot  destined  for  it ;  and  when  the 
American  pilgrim  shall,  in  after  ages,  come  up  to  this  high 
and  holy  place,  and  lay  his  hand  upon  this  sacred  column,  may 
he  recall  the  virtues  of  her  who  sleeps  beneath,  and  depart  with 
his  affections  purified  and  his  piety  strengthened,  while  he  in- 
vokes blessings  upon  the  Mother  of  Washington." 

The  whole  ceremony  was  solemn  and  affecting.  It  was  a 
late  but  just  tribute  to  the  memory  of  one,  who  had  given  to  the 
republic  its  noblest  son.  For  taste,  elegance,  and  efl^ect,  this 
monument  is  the  finest  specimen  of  art  in  the  United  States.     It 


500  FEMALE    BIOGRAPHY. 

is  forty-five  feet  from  the  base  to  the  summit.  It  is  mounted  by 
a  colossal  bust  of  George  Washington,  and  surmounted  by  the 
American  Eagle,  in  the  attitude  of  dropping  a  civic  wreath 
upon  the  head  of  the  hero.  This  bust  bears  an  admirable  like- 
ness of  the  father  of  his  country,  as  those  who  distinctly  recollect 
his  noble  form,  can  bear  witness.  The  inscription  is  simple  and 
affecting, 

MARY, 

THE  MOTHER   OF 

WASHINGTON. 

The  poetical  tribute  for  this  ceremony,  from  our  much  loved 
country-woman,  Mrs.  Sigourney,  is  worthy  the  monument,  the 
occasion,  and  character. 

"  Long  hast  thou  slept  unnoted.    Nature  stole, 
In  her  soft  ministry,  around  thy  bed. 
And  spread  her  vernal  coverings,  violet-gemm'd, 
And  pearl'd  with  dews.     She  bade  bright  summer  bring 
Gifts  of  frankincense,  with  sweet  song  of  birds, 
And  autumn  cast  his  yellow  coronet 
Down  at  thy  feet — and  stormy  winter  speak 
Hoarsely  of  man's  neglect.    But  now  we  come 
To  do  thee  homage— mother  of  our  chief! 
Fit  homage— such  as  honoreth  him  who  pays. 

"Methinks  we  see  thee,  as  in  olden  time, 
Simple  in  garb— majestic  and  serene — 
Unaw'd  by  '  pomp  and  circumstance' — in  truth 
Inflexible— and  with  a  Spartan  zeal 
Repressing  vice,  and  making  folly  grave. 
Tliou  didst  not  deem  it  woman's  part  to  waste 
Life  in  inglorious  sloth,  to  sport  awhile 
Amid  the  flowers,  or  on  the  summer  wave, 
Then  fleet  like  the  ephemeron  away, 
Building  no  temple  in  her  children's  hearts, 
Save  to  the  vanity  and  pride  of  life 
Which  she  had  worshipp'd. 

•'  Of  the  might  that  cloth'd 
The  'Pater  Patriae'— of  the  deeds  that  won 
A  nation's  liberty,  and  earth's  applause. 
Making  Mount  Vernon's  tomb  a  Mecca  haunt— 
For  patriot  and  for  sage,  while  time  shall  last 
What  part  was  thine,  what  thanks  to  thee  are  due, 
Who  mid  his  elements  of  being  wrought 


FEMALE  BIOGRAPHY.  501 

With  no  uncertain  aim— nursing  the  germs 
Of  godlike  virtue,  in  his  infant  mind, 
We  know  not — heaven  can  tell. 

Rise,  noble  pile  ! 
And  show  a  race  unborn,  who  rests  below — 
And  say  to  mothers,  what  a  holy  charge 
Is  theirs — with  what  a  kingly  power  their  love 
Might  rule  the  fountams  of  the  new-born  mind — 
Warn  them  to  wake  at  early  dawn,  and  sow 
Good  seed  before  the  world  doth  sow  its  tares, 
Nor  in  their  toil  decline— that  angel  bands 
May  put  the  sickle  in,  and  reap  for  God, 
And  gather  to  his  garner. 

Ye  who  stand 
With  thrilling  breast  and  kindling  cheek  this  morn, 
Viewing  the  tribute  that  Virginia  pays 
To  the  blest  mother  of  her  glorious  chief; 
Ye,  whose  last  thought  upon  your  nightly  couch. 
Whose  first  at  waking,  is  your  cradled  son — 
What  though  no  dazzling  hope  aspires  to  rear 
A  second  Washington — or  leave  your  name 
Wrought  out  in  marble,  with  your  country's  tears 
Of  deathless  gratitude— yet  may  ye  raise 
A  monument  above  the  stars — a  soul 
Led  by  your  teachings  and  your  prayers  to  God. 

With  this  account  of  the  mother  of  the  great  and  the  brave, 
we  close  this  volume  of  female  biography.  The  incidents  in 
her  life  were  not  numerous,  nor  could  she  be  said  to  have  edu- 
cated her  son,  particularly,  with  a  view  to  his  being  a  warrior  or 
a  statesman ;  but  she  did  that  which  was  better.  She  filled  his 
mind  with  plain  principles  and  correct  opinions,  and  taught  him 
to  cherish  honorable  and  religious  sentiments,  without  filling  his 
heart  with  pride,  or  his  head  with  visions  of  glory.  Many 
mothers  have  done  as  much  for  their  sons  as  Mary  Washington 
did  for  George ;  but,  as  the  world  reasons,  few  have  been  so 
successful.  In  the  view  of  wisdom,  however,  that  mother  who 
sees  her  children  grow  up  healthy,  virtuous,  enlightened,  re- 
spected and  happy,  in  the  common  walks  of  life,  is,  all  things 
considered,  placed  in  quite  as  enviable  a  situation  as  she  who 
watches,  with  anxiety,  the  progress  of  her  offspring,  ascending 
the  craggy  and  thorny  paths  of  fame  and  power. 


POSTSCRIPT. 


In  making  up  this  work,  the  editor  has  consulted  many  volumes  of  Biogra- 
phy, ancient  and  modern.  In  some  instances,  he  has  copied  the  language 
of  others,  unaltered;  in  other  cases  abridged,  to  suit  his  own  plan.  In  some 
instances  he  has  drawn  from  several  sources,  to  sketch  an  individual  charac- 
ter, and  united  them,  by  reiparks  of  his  own.  The  reader  will  perceive  that 
there  are  many  names  in  this  volume,  that  have  not  been  previously  noted  by 
any  one.  For  these,  such  as  they  are,  he  is  alone  responsible.  They  have 
been  brought  forward  with  honest  intentions,  and  he  hopes  tbsy  will  be 
acceptable  to  the  American  reader.  Besides  works  containing  single  lives,  the 
editor  has  made  free  use  of  such  standard  books  as  Chalmer's  Biographical 
Dictionary,  an  excellent  work;  Bayle's  learned  work,^  and  others  of  high 
authority,  such  as  Piatt,  Gorton,  Catherine  Hays,  Mrs.  Jamieson,  Miss  Aikin, 
Ooxe's  Female  Scripture  Biography,  Gibbon's  Pious  Women,  Modern  Plu- 
tarch, Analectic  Review,  Port  FoUo,  Anthon's  Lempriere,  several  French, 
Italian,  and  Arabian  writers,  more  particularly  of  those  whose  labors  have 
recently  been  conveyed  to  us,  and  many  others.  In  many  instances,  he  has 
taken  the  advice  of  well  educated,  religious,  and  discreet  females,  in  the  choice 
of  subjects ;  and  he  here  makes  the  remark,  without  hesitation,  that  some 
of  the  finest  sketches  of  female  character,  he  has  found,  have  come  from  the 
pens  of  their  own  sex.  In  preparing  for  the  press,  he  has  availed  himself  of 
the  labors  of  some  friends,  in  abridging,  &c.,  but  holds  himself  answerable 
for  all  that  is  found  in  his  book.  The  general  objects  of  the  work,  and  the 
views  he  entertains  of  the  character,  influence,  and  history  of  women,  will 
be  seen  in  the  introduction  to  this  volume. 

Editor. 


CONTENTS. 


Hannah  Adams,         -.      -       " 

13 

Charlotte  Corde,     -       -       - 

151 

Maria  Cajetana  Agnesi, 

33 

Isabella  Losa  de  Cordova,  - 

-     153 

Harriet  Acland,           ... 

34 

Hannah  Cowley,    .        -        - 

153 

Phebe  Abbot, 

35 

Rosalba  Carriera, 

-     154 

Isabella  Andreini,        .       -       - 

38 

Catherine  II.  - 

165 

Joan  D'Arc,    .       -        -       - 

39 

Corneha,      -.       -        -        - 

-     167 

Jane  Austen,       .        -        .        - 

44 

Eleanor  Davis,        ... 

170 

Joan  D' Albert,        ... 
Charlotte  D'Albert,    - 

45 

Mary  Dwight,     -        -.      - 

-     178 

46 

Hannah  Duston,    ... 

179 

Aldrude,           .        _        .        . 

46 

Anne  Dacier,       -        -        - 

-     181 

Aria,             .       _       _       .        . 

48 

Georgiana  Duchess  of  Devonshire,  183 

Agnes,              .        .        _        - 
Alice,            .        _        _        .        . 

48 

Martha  Derby, 

190 

48 

Dorcas,        .... 

-     193 

Aisha,      -       .        .        .        - 

49 

Lucretia  Maria  Davidson, 

196 

Sophonisba  Angesciala,     - 

50 

Frances  D'Arblay, 

-     201 

Lady  Blanche  Arundel,  - 
Abella, 

50 

Sarah  Edwards,      .        .        - 

205 

51 

Elizabeth,    -        -        -        - 

206 

Ayesha,   -        -        .        -        - 

51 

Elpis,       ....       - 

207 

Lady  Mary  Armeyne, .       -       - 

52 

Elizabeth  of  England, 

207 

Mary  Astell.    -       -       -       - 

52 

Elizabeth  Ferguson, 

215 

Margaret  D'Attendole, 

52 

Catherine  Fisher, 

-     222 

Anna  the  Prophetess,     - 

53 

Elizabeth  Fane,       ... 

223 

Jeanne  D'Arragon,     .        .        - 

67 

Sarah  Fielding, 

-     223 

Aspaaia,  -        -       .       -       - 

68 

Margaretta  V.  Paugeres, 

224 

Ann  AmeUa,        .... 

68 

Moderato  Fonte, 

-    228 

Anyta, 

68 

Cicilia  Fleron,         ... 

228 

Maria  Melleville  Allen, 

69 

Eliza  Frothingham,    • 

-     228 

Abassa,    ..... 

69 

Elizabeth  Gray^,       ... 

234 

Abigail  Adams,   ...        - 

70 

Isabella  Graham, 

-     235 

Anne  Bradstreet,    ... 

73 

Grace  Gethin,          ... 

237 

Blanche  of  Castilp,     .        -        - 

81 

Eleanora  Galligai, 

-     237 

Blanche,          .... 

82 

Lady  Jane  Gray,     -        -        - 

238 

Boadicea,     ..... 

82 

Galena,        .... 

-     245 

Lady  Ann  Bacon,   -        -        . 

83 

Catherine  Macaulay  Graham, 

245 

Ann  Letitia  Barbauld, 

85 

Mary  Jane  Grosvenor, 

-     249 

Laura  Battiferi,       ... 

93 

Susan  Huntington, 

252 

Laura  Maria  Catherina  Bassi,   - 

94 

Hypatia,       .... 

-     254 

94 

Ann  Hutchinson,    - 

255 

Anne  Boleyn,       .... 

94 

Hipparchia, 

-     258 

Jane  De  Belleville,  - 

98 

Hortensia,        ...        - 

259 

Catherine  Brown,        ... 

98 

Hecuba,        -        -        -        . 

-     250 

100 

Marcia  Hall,    .... 

260 

Esther  Burr,        .... 

102 

Sarah  Hull,          ... 

-     261 

Ann  Eliza  Bleeker, 

104 

Sarah  Hoffman,      -        -        - 

264 

Francisca  Anna  Pascalis  Canfield 

109 

Sarah  Hall, 

-    267 

Anne  Clifford, 

139 

St.  Hilda,        .... 

271 

Maria  Maddelena  F.  Corrilla,    - 

140 

Heoswitta,  -        - 

-     271 

Sulpicia, 

148 

Isabella  of  Castile, 

271 

Anna  Commena,         - 

142 

Esther  Inglis,      .        .        - 

-     277 

143 

Ann  H.  Judson,       -        .        - 

278 

Constance, 

148 

Judith,          .... 

-     282 

148 

Lucia  Knox,    -        .        -        . 

283 

Corinna, 

149 

Maria  Anna  A.  C.  Kauffman, 

-     285 

Maria  Cunitia,         ... 

149 

Khaula, 

286 

Cappillana, 

151 

Laura,         .... 

-     287 

CONTENTS. 


Margaret  Lambrun, 
Lousi'a  Labbe,     -        -        - 
Lucretia,  ...        - 

Janet  Mc  Crea,    -        -        - 
Elizabeth  Ann  Breese  Morse, 
Mary  Wortley  Montague,  - 
Margaret,         -        .        .        - 
Tarquinia  Molsa, 
Julia  Mosea,    -        -        -        - 
Margaret  of  Denmark, 
Matilda,  .        .        .        - 

Mary  Stuart,        -        -        - 
Mary,  of  Hungary,         - 
Clara  Cant ariniMatraini,  - 
Judith  Murray,        -        -        . 
Olympia  Fulvia  Morata,     - 
Maria  Sibylla  Merian,     - 
Damaris  Masham, 
Julia  Mammea,       -        .        - 
Maria  Theresa,    -        -        - 
Jane,  Countess  of  Mountfort, 
Madame  de  Maintenon, 
Margaret,     -        -        -        - 
Hannah  More.        -        -        - 
Harriet  Newell,  -        -        - 
Nitrocris,         .        .        .        - 
Octavia,        .        -        -        - 
Pbcebe  Phillips,       -        -        - 
Falc9nia  Anicia, 
Phillip  a,  -        .        -        . 

Christina  de  Pisan, 


290 

291 
292 
298 
301 
303 
310 
311 
311 
312 
313 
313 
324 
325 
325 
327 
328 
329 
330 
330 
342 
344 
347 
351 
366 
367 
367 
374 
377 
377 
377 


Katherine  PhiUips,  - 
Pompeia  Plotina, 
Mary  Sydney, 
Pocahontas,         -        .        . 
Sarah  Roberts, 
Martha  Laurens  Ramsay,  - 
Anne  Rahan,  -        -        - 
Susan  Rowson,  -        -        - 
Lady  Elizabeth  Russell,  - 
Renee  de  France, 
Anne  Radcliffe, 
Elizabeth  Rowe, 
Madame  Rowland, 
Radhia,        -       .       -       - 
Ruth,        -        -        -        - 
Margaret  Roper,  -        -        - 
Sarah  Smith,  -        -        - 
Mary  Saltonstall, 
Sarah  Louisa  P.  Smith, 
Dorothy  Scott,    -        -        - 
Mary  Starbuck, 
Anne  Maria  A.  Schurman, 
Madame  de  Stael,  - 
Thona,         .        -        .        . 
Tullia  of  Arragon,  - 
Maria  Van  Ness, 
Mary  Wolstoncraft, 
Mercv  Warren,    - 
Martha  Washington, 
Susanna  Wright, 
Mary  Washington, 


378 
380 

381 
381 
386 
387 
396 
398 
403 
404 
406 
431 
434 
440 
404 
442 
448 
452 
454 
460 
463 
465 
467 
474 
474 
475 
477 
479 
482 
484 
487 


University  of 
Connecticut 

Libraries 


